


Deeper Down

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 65,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: It's been one year since the Narada Engagement and four months since Captain Kirk and Spock found themselves stranded on Veridian III. While the Enterprise is called back to San Francisco to mark the anniversary Nero's attack, Spock is obliged to travel to New Chicago to attend Amanda's memorial service. Jim opts to go with him, never expecting to run straight into his own better-left-forgotten past.  Sequel to One Wing and should be read in order.





	1. Chapter 1

_Deeper down,  
He felt the comfort of a kiss._

When Uhura saw the familiar form walking toward her in a long, deliberate gait, she swerved, putting herself directly in his path. He was absorbed by his PADD, his fine brows arched in concentration, his mouth pulled into an all too frequent frown, and he didn’t notice the small adjustment to her path. Not until he literally walked into her.

Spock looked up and his face shifted in apology. “Uhura, I did not see you. I apologize.” 

“I noticed, and don’t worry about it.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m needed on deck fourteen for an observation.” 

Uhura frowned. “In the lab?” 

“Yes. We picked up a specimen on P-326 and it’s beginning to have reactions to certain stimulus.” 

She arched her brow. “Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

“And it’s something you need to observe tonight? I wasn’t aware that anything gathered from P-326 was classified as urgent.” 

He stepped back slightly, resting the PADD against his stomach as he studied her. She crossed her arms and gazed back, hoping she looked bolder than she felt. Lately, when it came to Spock, she constantly felt off-center. Like she was somehow infringing on his space and time when she dared to question him. 

“Do you not want me to go to deck fourteen?” 

“We were going to have dinner in my quarters,” Uhura said softly. Either Spock had forgotten their date, or he had purposefully ignored it and tried to avoid her. She didn’t know which option was worse. Spock never forgot anything, and he wasn’t an inconsiderate jerk. 

“Oh, Nyota…” He glanced down the PADD, studied it for a moment, and then said, “We were scheduled to eat at eighteen hundred hours. I will still be there.” 

“You’re only going to spend twenty minutes in the lab? Really?” 

“Have I ever missed an appointment?” 

Uhura blinked. “An appointment? Is that how you view the time we spend together?” She shook her head. “Go. We’ll have dinner tomorrow night.” 

“You’re certain?” 

“Yes. I’m not really in a romantic mood tonight anyway.” 

She didn’t give Spock a chance to respond for continuing on her way to her quarters. Snapping at him and marching away wasn’t a recommended problem solving technique. Having a relationship with Spock wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it felt like they were speaking two different languages, and for once, Uhura didn’t have the skills or the ability to learn the foreign tongue. The best way to deal with this difference was through direct communication, but even when she tried that, the logical, straightforward Vulcan could still be maddeningly obtuse. 

Uhura paused at the lift, debating the deck. After a moment, she blurted a number, and the computer responded immediately, sending her to the floor below. 

“Wait, stop. Deck seven.” 

The lift came to a stop and reversed direction. At the sixth deck, she changed her mind again. “Four.” 

Back down she went, her lip caught between her teeth, her fingers twisting into her skirt. If anybody stopped the lift to join her, she’d smile and make the appropriate amount of small talk, but she silently prayed nobody would. Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t as good as Spock at hiding her emotions. She had no doubt that her eyes would give her away. They always did. Especially the tears of frustration stinging the corners. If anybody asked her what was wrong, she didn’t think she’d be able to answer them. _Spock’s not having dinner with me_ was not a sufficient excuse for tears. 

She reached her destination without running into another crewmember, but indecision seized her again, and she walked past the door without stopping. She made it to the end of the corridor, turned around, and passed the door a second time. By her third pass, she knew she looked like a crazy woman, but she didn’t care. Any other time, she would request entry and state her problem with a minimal amount of fuss, and certainly no butterflies in her stomach. But this was different. This wasn’t a ship problem. This was a personal problem. And Uhura had never felt the need to take her deeply personal problems to Captain Kirk before. 

But if there really was a problem, she couldn’t keep her concerns to herself. 

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and buzzed the comm to request entrance. Kirk answered immediately. “Come.” 

The door opened and Uhura stepped into the room like she owned the place, but she waited respectfully until the captain acknowledged her. He had his head down, his gaze locked on the PADD in front of him, a frown slashing his features. She had seen that frown before. It was identical to the one Spock had been wearing. He made a few marks with the stylus, then dropped it with a sigh. 

“What can I do for you…” He finally looked up and a smile instantly replaced the frown. “Lieutenant Uhura?” 

“I need to speak to you, sir. But it can wait if you’re busy.” 

“Trust me, I’d rather be talking to you than dealing with this stuff. I guess it’s a good thing nobody mentioned all the paperwork, or I might not have accepted the commission.” He gestured at the chair across from him. “What’s up?” 

“I…look, I normally wouldn’t bring something like this to you. But I think there might be a genuine problem and I don’t think I can talk to anybody else on the ship.” 

Jim leaned forward, his affable smile gone. For a moment, he looked exactly how a captain of a starship should look. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Spock.” 

His frown returned. “There’s something wrong with Spock? McCoy’s latest report didn’t indicate anything.” 

“You haven’t noticed that he’s been a little…off?” 

“He seems normal to me, Lieutenant. I haven’t noticed any difference in his behavior on the Bridge.” 

“That’s not exactly what I mean. When it comes to his duties, his performance is always exemplary. I’m speaking of how he behaves outside of that scope.” 

“You’re talking about his personal life?” 

“Yes.” 

Jim shook his head. “I’m not a relationship counselor, Uhura.” 

“I’m aware of that, Captain.” A hint of irritation snuck into the last word, and she quickly tried to quell it. She wanted Kirk’s help. That meant she couldn’t antagonize him. Even if he was bound and determined to make her snap at him. “I wanted to speak to you as his friend, not as his commanding officer.” 

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. And yeah, I’ve noticed. He seems…distracted.” 

She sat forward a little. “You know what next week is.” 

“Yes, and if that’s the problem, then I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it except wait it out.” 

“No, I don’t like that answer.” 

“You don’t have to like it, Nyota. Spock…he’s Spock. He’s going to grieve in his own way, at his own pace.” 

“I think…” She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to tell him we had this conversation, are you?” 

“I can’t imagine any reason why I would.” 

Spock would never show it, but she knew he’d be angry if he found out they discussed him this way. Even if they were doing it with the best of intentions. He simply refused to speak about his mother, or the loss of Vulcan, and there was an implicit expectation that everybody else would avoid the subjects as well. Out of respect for Spock’s loss and his privacy. More than once over the past year, Uhura had hinted at discussing it, but Spock always immediately shut the conversation down. 

“I think the problem is that he’s not grieving.” 

“I’m not sure I follow.” 

“He never went to his mother’s funeral. There were ceremonies and services held on New Vulcan for the ones who were lost, but he never attended those, either. Even after Sarek requested it of him. He never talks about his mother or what happened. He won’t let anybody else talk about it.” 

“I think that’s just what you should expect from a Vulcan,” Jim said gently. 

“Spock is half-human, too. All of the rage and pain he felt…I think it’s still there. He hasn’t dealt with it.” 

“That might be the case, Nyota, but I still don’t know what you want me to do about it. I can order that he reports to sickbay to see a counselor, but I don’t think that’ll do any good.” 

“I know, but we’ve got to try something. He’s been…forgetting things. He’s been avoiding me.” 

“He’s been avoiding me, too.” 

Uhura drummed her nails against the desk. She was relieved that Jim had noticed Spock’s behavior, too, but a part of her wished that he hadn’t. Now her vague suspicions were beginning to point to an actual problem, and she didn’t think she could help him. Not if he continued to shut her out. But at that point, she didn’t even care about how he treated her personally. She needed to help him because she sensed he was still in great pain, but he wouldn’t even let her close enough to touch him most of the time. 

“Did he tell you…” Jim paused, his lips thinning for a moment. “Did he tell you what happened to him in the temporal nexus? Did he tell you why I left him there?” 

Uhura shook her head. In the four months since the two men returned from Veridian III, neither had brought up the experience once. Q had returned them to the point they left the timeline, so Starfleet had no idea that anything happened at all. A cover story was quickly created for the older Captain Kirk, and any questions the crew might have had about where they were or what had happened to them were quickly deflected. Uhura had been more than a little hurt by Spock’s reticence. She didn’t need every detail, but she had been stunned that Spock refused to give her any at all. 

“The nexus created a sort of paradise. I don’t really know how it all works, but it could detect a person’s needs and desires. It ended up sending me right to the other Kirk, but Spock…he got to create his own world.” 

Uhura’s eyes widened. “His mother was still alive, wasn’t she?” 

Jim nodded. “I think he was reliving a few points in his life, including his sixteenth birthday. They had dinner together.” 

“That’s why you couldn’t make him leave,” Uhura murmured. “You didn’t want to take her away from him again. Even though you would have lost your first officer and your friend?” 

“It seemed like the right decision at the time. Anyway, that experience might have set Spock back a bit. Might have made things worse.” 

Uhura frowned. “Why wouldn’t he have told me?” 

“He might not have thought you needed to know.” 

She looked down, biting her bottom lip until the pain focused her thoughts. She knew what people thought of the two of them. The first six months of the relationship had been a complete secret, since he was still technically her instructor. After that, it hadn’t technically been a secret, but it wasn’t anything she mentioned. Not even to her closest friends. When said friends began to figure it out, they had been a combination of stunned, intrigued, and disbelieving. But none of them had known Spock. Not really. They hadn’t known how dedicated he could be, how sweet he could be, how thoughtful and attentive he was in his own way. They didn’t know he was funny. They couldn’t even begin to understand how truly intelligent he was. It had been far too easy to fall in love with him, and she was certain that a year ago, he wouldn’t have kept this kind of secret from her. 

“I guess not. I received a transmission for you today before my shift ended. I had it forwarded here. It’s from Sarek.” 

“Is he worried about Spock, too?” 

“He wants to know why you refused to grant Spock leave so he can attend Amanda’s memorial service next week.” 

“What? Spock never requested any leave for a memorial service.” Jim’s eyes widened. “He lied to his father and used me as his cover? Where is he?” 

“In the laboratory on deck fourteen.”

Jim flicked the switch and dialed in the appropriate number. “Spock?” 

“Spock, here, Captain.” 

“I want to see you in my quarters. Now.” 

“Understood.” 

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lieutenant. You’re excused.” 

She promptly stood and inclined her head. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“Any time.” 

Uhura didn’t return to her own quarters once she left Kirk’s. Instead, she went to deck twenty and found a sparring partner. She didn’t know how much it would help, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to work out the frustrations have been piling on for the past four months. 

#

Jim stared at the monitor in disbelief. His brain refused to accept that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate joke. The type of joke that somebody who lacked a sense of humor would find hilarious. The implications fell into place one at a time, and he realized the depth of the problem before he even heard the whole thing. Sarek expressed his disappointment in a very measured, Vulcan way. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t accuse Jim of being a poor captain. He didn’t castigate him. The message itself was only about ninety seconds long, but by the third viewing, Jim felt thoroughly chastised. And he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Spock had more than enough leave accumulated. If Spock had requested it, Jim would have granted it. 

Whether or not Spock went to Amanda’s memorial service was none of Jim’s business, and he wouldn’t have said a word about it to Spock under other circumstances. Even if he agreed with everything Nyota said. Spock had clearly been distracted, and that distraction only grew worse with each passing day. At first, Jim had assumed that Spock wasn’t quite himself for the same reason Jim hadn’t been quite himself for the past four months, but now he wasn’t so sure. There hadn’t been a funeral for Amanda, and to Jim’s knowledge, Spock hadn’t participated in any grieving rituals, Vulcan or otherwise. Jim hadn’t mentioned it because he didn’t want to invade Spock’s privacy, but as far as he was concerned, it was his business now. And he was going to speak his mind on the topic. At length. Until Spock learned a lesson about using his captain as a scapegoat. 

Jim flicked off the monitor and Sarek’s disapproving visage faded to black. It’d be easier to talk to Spock if he didn’t have Sarek staring him down. Though that wasn’t entirely accurate. Nothing would make this conversation easier. His heart had dropped in his chest when he understood what Uhura wanted to talk about. He was glad she didn’t specifically ask him for advice on her relationship with Spock, because he sure as hell wasn’t a disinterested, objective party. And despite his growing friendship with Uhura, he simply didn’t think he had it in himself to fix her problems with Spock. Even if she wasn’t the obstacle between him and Spock. 

Spock was the obstacle between him and Spock. 

He dreamt about Spock every single night. Sometimes, he just relived the memories of Veridian III. The good ones and the not so good ones. Sometimes, his dreams took on completely new shapes and scenarios. He was growing fond of the recurring one of the two of them in his chair on the Bridge. One night, he dreamt that they had ran into each other in their shared bathroom, and the images had been so vivid that it gave him his first wet dream in six years. The day after that one, Jim hadn’t even been able to meet Spock’s eyes. 

He wasn’t just tormented by sexual desires, either, though they were more than enough to keep him suffering nearly non-stop for four months. Something inside of him came alive when Spock entered the room. Like he only needed to know that Spock existed to be happy. His heart always beat a little bit quicker, his senses seemed a little bit sharper, and his mood improved. He could be having the shittiest day in history, and he would still smile when Spock stepped onto the Bridge. It was all rather unbecoming. And he was pretty sure that Spock had noticed every single instance. Not that he had ever said anything, of course. 

That was the problem. Spock hadn’t said one word about what they had shared—what they still shared as far as Jim was concerned—and he didn’t seem inclined to change the status quo. Which meant that for the first time in years, Jim was positively besotted with somebody who couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day in return. Jim had once attempted to discuss it, but Spock dismissed him and his feelings out of hand, repeating his claim that they were nothing more than the remnants of what Q had planted in his head. Spock had insisted it was better this way for their friendship and for their working relationship, but in Jim’s estimation, both had suffered. Perhaps irreparably. 

His comm chimed, alerting him to Spock’s presence. Spock didn’t need to wait for an invitation, but he always did now, blatantly ignoring Jim’s open-door policy. “Come in.” 

Spock passed through the doorway with his hands behind his back. “You wanted to see me, Captain.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Is there a problem?” 

“Yes, there is. A big one.” He spun the monitor around and turned it on again. Sarek’s voice filled the room. 

“Captain Kirk, I am sure that I don’t need to remind you of the significance of the date a week hence. As a result, I am at a loss to explain your refusal to grant Spock leave for his mother’s memorial service. I have checked with Starfleet, and Admiral Pike has confirmed that the Enterprise is not on a critical mission, and there is no other logical reason to deny the request. I hope to speak with you about this matter at your earliest convenience.” 

Jim studied Spock’s face as Sarek’s message played, but it remained a completely impassive mask. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t even look that interested. For some reason that fact annoyed Jim more than anything else. 

“Why am I receiving this message? And why is the first I’ve heard of any request or memorial service?” 

“Captain--.” 

“Did you lie to Sarek to cover your own tracks?” 

“I implied that I would not be attending the memorial service due to my inability to abandon my obligations on the ship.” 

“What’s the real reason you won’t be attending?” 

Spock’s gaze rested just above Jim’s shoulder. He didn’t answer, and his eyes didn’t flicker to Jim’s face. 

“I asked you a question, Commander. Why aren’t you attending the memorial service?” 

“It’s a private matter, Captain. And a private decision.” 

“It _was_ a private decision. Now that I’m involved, it’s my decision.” 

That caught Spock’s attention. His gaze flew to Jim’s face and for a moment—for a single, brief second—the shields were down. “Captain, I do not understand why you’re involvement is necessary.” 

“Because you involved me, Spock! Sarek went over my head to Admiral Pike. How do you think that looks for me? I fully expect the next transmission to be from Starfleet, and if they think they have to order me to let my Vulcan first officer attend the memorial service of dead mother on the anniversary of his planet’s destruction, it’s not going to end well for me. Especially since the Enterprise is supposed to return to Earth for the service in San Francisco.” Jim spit out each word, unmindful of Spock’s feelings. He was tired of avoiding the topic. “I could send a transmission to Sarek right now and inform him of my ignorance of the request and of the stated reason, letting him know that his own son lied to him about attending the memorial service for his wife. Or I can send my immediate apologies and cover your tracks. Which do you prefer?” 

Once again, Spock’s only response was silence. Jim’s fists curled in frustration. Why did Spock think he could do that? What made him think he could avoid answering direct questions? 

“Which do you prefer?” Jim ground out slowly. 

“The latter, sir.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll let Sarek know that I’m attending as well in order to pay my respects. Where are we going?” 

“New Chicago.” 

“Is that where she was from?” 

“Yes. Her family has been there for several generations, and she was teaching school there when she met Sarek.” 

_Her_ family. Not _my_ family. Jim supposed it was possible—even likely—that Spock did not feel any kinship with the human side of his family. But he didn’t know that could be, given how close Spock had been to his mother. Perhaps she had been estranged from due to distance. 

“Make all the necessary arrangements for the shuttle to leave as soon as the Enterprise enters Earth’s orbit.” 

“Very well, Captain. Is that all?” 

“Yes.” He waited until Spock reached the door before speaking again. “Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

“Why don’t you want to go, Spock? I know it’s not because you don’t care. And we both know that you can be spared from the ship for a few days while it’s in space dock. What’s going on?” _Please talk to me. Just give me something to work with here._

“It’s private, Captain.” 

“Remember when you used to call me Jim?” 

Spock’s eyes hardened to chips of obsidian, and he exited the room without waiting for Kirk to excuse him. He had probably just given Spock another reason to hate him. He almost wished he could return the sentiment, instead of being stuck with the bewildering heaviness in his chest. Spock’s distance and abrupt departure actually _hurt_ , like the Vulcan had punched him in the solar plexus.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting drunk with your buddies was a time-honored tradition when nursing a broken heart—one that Jim was quite fond of. Even if none of his buddies were the least bit aware that he was suffering from a broken heart. And even if he wouldn’t necessarily use the words _broken heart_. Their excuse this time was the return to Earth, but every week or so, McCoy and Scotty met to share their stash of liquor, which included recently acquired bottles from various planets as well as what Scotty cooked up himself in his distillery. He wasn’t supposed to have one, strictly speaking, but as long as he didn’t mind sharing, Jim couldn’t be bothered to bring any disciplinary action against him. 

“No drinking any of this while I’m gone,” Jim warned as some of Scotty’s homemade brew seared the inside of his throat and burned his chest. It almost tasted like he had cooked it up in his bathtub, but it had the desired effect. The rougher edges were already beginning to soften. A few more shots, and he wouldn’t even remember how much it hurt when Spock informed him that Q must have been responsible for _everything_ between them. 

“Of course not, Captain. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Don’t worry, Jim. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he stays on the straight and narrow,” McCoy said. 

“You’re not to be drinking this stuff, either. When I come back, I want my ship to be in one piece.” 

“Captain!” Scotty looked suitably insulted by the implication, and Jim couldn’t help but smile. “No harm will come to the ship as long as I’m in charge of her.” 

“I know that, Scotty. Which is why I’m not too worried about leaving.” 

“What’s your itinerary?” Bones asked. “How long do you plan to be gone.” 

“Three days at the most. I would like to return to San Francisco at least a day before we’re scheduled to leave the dock. Spock worked out the schedule. I’m just happy he didn’t work out a way to disobey my orders.” 

“You think he would do that?” 

“Given what he’s already done to avoid going? Somehow, I don’t think he’s done trying to get out of this.” 

“Maybe he never was,” Bones suggested. 

“Never was what?” 

“Trying to get out of it.” 

“Why else would he imply I wouldn’t let him leave the ship?” 

McCoy shrugged. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t a very smart attempt, was it? Spock should have been able to figure something out that was better than that.” 

Jim downed another shot and wondered if it was strong enough to make him go blind. It wouldn’t be the first time a concoction of Scotty’s caused temporary blindness. “Either way, the damage is done now.” 

“I noticed that Uhura was sitting alone in the mess tonight,” McCoy said. 

“Yeah, and I bet that didn’t last for long, did it?” 

“I offered to join her, if that’s what you mean. I just wondered why she was taking dinner by herself.” 

Jim snorted. “You’re such a gossip. You’re like an old lady.” 

“I’m just trying to make small talk and distract everybody from your maudlin ass.” 

“I’m not maudlin.” 

“Lately, the more you drink, the more maudlin you get.” 

Jim sat up straight, doing his best to convey sobriety and cheerfulness. “I haven’t been getting maudlin. I’m a happy drunk. Anybody will tell you that.” His smile faded as McCoy and Scotty shared a knowing glance. “This is an ambush, isn’t it?” 

“Not an ambush, sir,” Scotty said quickly. “But you have been a wee bit maudlin lately.” 

“See? I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You haven’t really been yourself since Veridian III.” 

“You have no idea,” Kirk muttered. 

McCoy leaned forward immediately. “What was that?” 

He should have known to keep his mouth shut. McCoy’s ears were almost as sharp as Spock’s. Especially when he was in mother hen mode. “Nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing, Jim. What did you mean by that?” 

Jim glanced at Scotty then shook his head. “I didn’t mean anything. It was a joke.” 

McCoy looked at him with all the annoyance he could muster—which was actually quite a bit—until Jim was forced to redirect his gaze to the glass in his hands. Scotty’s eyes jumped back and forth between the two men for several seconds before he pushed away from the table. “It’s been fun gentleman, but I’m afraid I must be on my way.” 

“Scotty, sit. You don’t have to go.” 

“Actually I do, sir. Been meaning to get some reports done.” 

“You’re drunk,” Jim protested. 

“Nah, just feeling a little pleasant. Have a good night.” 

Jim waited until Scotty was gone before shooting daggers at the doctor. “Look what you’ve done. You scared him away.” 

“I’m not sorry to see him go. We need to talk. About Veridian III.” 

“No, we really don’t. I already told you everything you needed to know.” 

“Jim…you haven’t really been yourself since that little trip. And neither has Spock. Now, I’m not even going to try to figure out what’s going on in _his_ head because I’m not a young man and I don’t have the time.” He leaned forward, his glass of whiskey practically forgotten on the table. “I’m worried about you, Jim.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Bones, I do. But this isn’t anything you need to be concerned with. Or are you trying to say I’m not fit to serve?” 

“I know your fit to serve. Physically, you’re just about as perfect as can be expected for somebody your age.” 

Jim beamed. “Thanks.” 

“But mentally is another matter,” McCoy continued as though Jim never interrupted. 

“Mentally?” Everything inside of Jim hardened. “What are you trying to imply, Doctor?” 

“Is this how you want to be? Fine. I conducted a _thorough_ examination of both you and Spock when you returned from Veridian III. You and I both know that I didn’t log all of the details, don’t we? I wanted to give you the chance to mention it, but I don’t think I want you and he to go flying off again if we don’t talk about this.” 

“If you have a concern about my health, then you know the proper channels.” 

McCoy slammed his hand against the table hard enough to make Jim jump. “Damnit, I’m talking as your friend right now, not your doctor.” 

“I know.” He dropped his head back and finished the glass. This time, the booze didn’t burn at all. He wished he had more, but he didn’t think McCoy would be inclined to share at the moment. “If you conducted a thorough examination, then you must know _what_ happened. Why are you asking me?” 

“Sure, I can figure that out. But I can’t figure out why it happened. Or why you and Spock can go a whole day without exchanging more than two words.” 

He had known that McCoy would find the physical evidence of their altercation. How could he not? Neither of them had walked away unscathed, and considering just how brutally Jim had treated Spock, it was a wonder that McCoy hadn’t immediately tried to raise charges against Jim based on the bruising alone. 

“I’m not even sure where to begin. You need to understand that neither one of us…we weren’t ourselves.” 

“Why weren’t you yourselves?” 

Jim laughed. He couldn’t help it. He had just made Spock’s argument for him, using it for justification even though he didn’t believe it for a second. 

“I don’t see what’s so damned funny,” McCoy groused. 

“Nothing. It’s not funny at all. I just really don’t know where to begin. Everything I already told you…all that happened. I just left a few things out. Like on the first night, Spock was behaving very strangely. He was freaking me out a bit, honestly. Then he…well he wanted to mind meld.” 

“Did you want to do that?” 

“No. But he did it anyway.” 

“Goddamnit…” 

“I’m still not sure what happened. He said that he somehow forced me into the pon farr, and I had a blood fever. All I know is that I wanted to…honestly, I’m not sure which I wanted more. To fight him or to fuck him. So…I did both.” 

McCoy didn’t even flinch at the confession. Given what he saw, he had probably expected as much from Jim. “Why did he do that?” 

“It was Q. Apparently, he thought it would be good for a chuckle if he stripped away all of Spock’s control and logic. I think he thought Spock would probably get sick of me and snap my neck. I don’t think he predicted that Spock would decide I’m his bond mate.” 

McCoy _did_ physically react to that. “That’s what he said?” 

“Yes.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

Jim should have expected that question, but he wasn’t prepared for it. The words tore at him, like a massive claw ripping through his chest. Four months might have separated him from the night he asked that very question of Spock, but those memories were no less vivid. 

“I can’t…I don’t know if I can answer that. It’s like being in love but I don’t know. I’ve been in love before and it was nothing like this. Don’t look at me like that, okay? You asked.” 

“I’m not judging you or anything. I just…given how icy the Bridge has been, I have a hard time believing it has anything to do with love.” 

“That’s because after we went through this whole thing, Spock decided that nothing we felt or experienced was _real_. He announced all of it was clearly a result of Q’s manipulation.” 

“You don’t agree with him?” 

“No. I know what I felt…what I _feel_ now.” 

“And I guess he doesn’t really care about that?” 

“He thinks I’m being illogical for not seeing how obviously correct he is. I think he’s being a coward and using Q as a convenient excuse. Communication really hasn’t been great between us, as you can imagine.” 

“Are you sure you want to go back to Earth with him?” 

“Yes,” Jim answered instantly. There wasn’t a doubt about that. He couldn’t change his mind anyway. Not without looking weak to Spock. Not to mention of questionable moral character to Starfleet. 

“Don’t you think that could make things worse?” 

Jim laughed. “Worse than this? I haven’t got anything to lose here, Bones. Spock’s not going to transfer off the Enterprise. Which means the worst that can happen is he’ll only say one word a day to me instead of two. God, Bones, you have no idea how…hard it’s been.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know if it was during the first meld or later, but some sort of link was created between us. I don’t know exactly what Spock is doing right now, but I do know that he’s completely intrigued by something. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in the lab.” 

McCoy put his thumb over the switch on the comm. “Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

He flicked it on. “Commander Spock.” 

“Spock here, Doctor.” 

“What’s your current location?” 

“Why do you need that information?” 

“Just answer the question.” 

“In the lab on deck fourteen.” 

“Thanks. McCoy out.” He frowned. “What does Spock say about this link?” 

“He says it doesn’t exist. Can you believe that? I know it’s easier for him to feel me. It must be, since he’s the one with telepathic abilities. But since he won’t even admit it exists, I can’t even figure out how to break it.” 

McCoy’s frown deepened, and he pushed his ignored glass across the table in silent invitation. Jim accepted it gratefully, barely pausing before swallowing all the contents. “God, Jim, that must be…hell.” 

“It’s certainly not pleasant. But maybe if we can get off the ship, I can get him to at least acknowledge I can’t keep living like this.” 

“Do you think that’s why Nyota has been finding him more difficult than usual lately?” 

Jim looked up sharply. “She’s been talking to you about that?” 

“A little. When she needs a shoulder. She thinks it’s because of his mother.” 

“Yeah, it could be,” Jim said with a shrug. “I think a pretty strong case could be made for that. Or it could be a combination of things. Or it could be something else entirely. How the fuck am I supposed to know?” 

“Does Nyota know any of this?” 

“No. Spock wanted to spill his guts to her but I basically threatened him with an insubordination charge if he did. I disagree that honesty is always the best policy. He had already decided that everything that happened to us was just…manufactured, and I didn’t think it would do any good to hurt her.” 

“I have to agree with you there.” 

Jim poured himself another drink. It didn’t actually make him feel better, and he didn’t want to be traveling with Spock and a massive hangover. But it was _supposed_ to make him feel better, and as long as that possibility existed, he’d chase it. Something had to work, after all. 

“It hurts,” Jim admitted softly. “It’s killing me. I don’t know why it’s not killing him. Maybe he really doesn’t feel anything. Maybe I’m just crazy.” 

“You’re not crazy.” 

“How do you know that?” Jim challenged. “Maybe he broke my brain during one of the melds.” 

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can have a whole battery of psych tests prepared for you when you return from Earth.” 

“Really?” 

“I don’t think you need them, but if it’ll make you feel better…” 

Jim sighed. “No. I’d rather not know. I mean, if I’m not crazy, and Spock can just shut this off…no, I’d rather not know. Spock said that I was his destiny, even if he wasn’t mine. The bitch of it is, I think he’s wrong. It looks like he’s mine, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He raised his glass with a nod to his friend. “Cheers.” 

#

Successfully sharing a bathroom was like dancing a very delicate and precise ballet. Especially when you wanted to avoid your bathroom mate at all costs. Spock was a pro at it. If Starfleet passed out commendations for the appearance of never needing to use the bathroom, he would surely have received a dozen by then. Jim wasn’t quite that proficient, but he still did a pretty good job when he tried. But by the time he stumbled out of McCoy’s quarters, he not only didn’t care about the current state of the bathroom, he had forgotten he was supposed to be avoiding Spock. 

The door didn’t open on Jim’s first attempt, but that didn’t dissuade him. His bladder felt like it was going to burst, and something as inconsequential as a locked door was not going to get between him and the toilet. Digging deep in his sloshed brain, he found the security code and keyed it in with clumsy fingers. It would have been easier if there were only one key pad, but it never took him more than two attempts to find the number he wanted. 

He had his fly unzipped before he had the door open, and he didn’t look up from the direct course he had set. He noticed in a fuzzy way that the ‘fresher was on, but he didn’t have the energy to try to figure out what that meant. He barely had the energy to brace his hand against the wall and hold himself up. At some point they had switched to Trakian ale. Jim didn’t remember who suggested it, or why either one of them thought that was a good idea, but they had completely wiped out McCoy’s whole stash. The good doctor was going to have a very sore head in the morning. 

Jim snorted. “The poor bastard.” 

“Captain?” 

Some thread of self-preservation was still intact, and that stopped him from swinging around at the sound of Spock’s voice. He focused more intently on the toilet in front of him, waiting for everything to click into place. It didn’t take long. 

“Oh, you were in the ‘fresher.” 

“Yes. Are you…feeling quite well?” 

“Who me? Sure. I’m great. And you?” 

“My current physical state is acceptable.” 

“Wonderful. You know Spock, we really should have more conversations like this. It’d be good for morale.” 

“Have you been consuming alcohol, sir?” 

Jim looked over his shoulder and squinted. “Well, let’s look at this logically. I’m having some sort of discussion with three of you while I’m pissing about twenty gallons. I don’t see why you’d think I’ve consumed alcohol.” 

“I’ve never seen you inebriated.” 

“That’s because you don’t really know me that well, cupcake.” He tucked himself in after a final shake and managed to get his pants partially zipped. Which was good enough for him. He turned and realized that if Spock had been silent, he would have never noticed the Vulcan. He couldn’t sense him at all. “So that’s it.” 

“What’s it?” 

“I can’t feel the link you claim doesn’t exist in the first place. Apparently consuming unhealthy amounts of Scotty’s homemade hooch does the trick.” He clapped Spock on the shoulder. “Good information to have.” 

The moment he touched Spock’s bare skin was the moment Jim realized that he was wearing nothing more than a towel. He squeezed Spock’s arm lightly, and a jolt of electricity cut him from his throat to his groin. _But I still feel it when we touch._

“Jim…” 

“You feel it, don’t you? Why don’t you just admit it? You want to ignore it? Fine. That’s up to you. But don’t try to make me feel like I’m _crazy_.” He sounded more petulant—even whiney—than he intended, and he was sorry about that, but he was too far gone to control the pitch of his voice. 

“It is not safe for you to continue standing in here.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you are about to fall down.” 

“I’m not,” Jim protested. Except he was supporting most of his weight by leaning on Spock. Spock hadn’t even budged an inch beneath the added weight. 

“Perhaps we can finish this conversation in your quarters, Captain.” 

That sounded better than anything else he expected Spock to say. “Sure.” 

Spock half-led-half-pulled Jim out of the shared bathroom and towards his own bed. Jim’s hand was still on Spock’s shoulder, and whatever they shared was still passing between them freely. Spock didn’t like to be touched. Everybody knew that. But Spock loved to be touched. His fingers, his face, his back, his throat, his neck, his stomach, even his feet. Once he became accustomed to it, he couldn’t get enough of it. That was one of the basic facts of Spock that he’d never forget. 

“Just tell me the truth, Spock. Vulcans aren’t supposed to lie.” 

“Lay down.” 

Jim obediently collapsed on his bed. The fact that he was still dressed didn’t really bother him, but he didn’t let go of Spock. “The truth?” 

“Yes. There are times when I still feel the connection.” 

“That’s all I wanted to know.” 

Spock sighed. “No, it’s not.” He finally pulled away from Jim’s grip and straightened. He still managed to look dignified, even though he wasn’t wearing anything except a towel. The bruises that had covered his body before were completely healed now, all the visible evidence gone forever. 

“Rest well, Captain.” 

“Yeah, right.” Jim turned on his side and pulled his legs up. “That’d be a nice change. Goodnight, Spock.” 

Spock didn’t lose any time slipping out of the room, but that didn’t matter. As soon as Jim closed his eyes, he saw the Vulcan, tall and too skinny, towering over the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

The Captain wasn’t speaking. Not to Spock. Not to anybody else. He left it up to Spock to pilot the shuttle out of the bay, and it remained Spock’s duty to respond to any and all communications. He sat in his chair, ostensibly catching up on latest batch of requisition and personnel forms, but each one took much longer than it should have. At one point, Kirk stared at a request that required a simple signature for ten point four minutes before scribbling out his name. 

His silence was probably for the best, because Spock did not wish to converse on any topic that might be of immediate interest to Jim. He didn’t want to talk about the night before or why he had been the one to put Captain Kirk to bed. He did not wish to discuss the memorial service and why he had endeavored to avoid the situation. He had no desire to debate the events of Veridian III or explain, once again, why he believed Q was fully responsible for everything that transpired between them. Despite the fact that he welcomed the silence, he was slightly confused as to why Captain Kirk refused to even acknowledge him. 

It might have been the result of the previous night’s drinking with Dr. McCoy. He had lived among humans long enough to understand that they always paid for their excesses, and that was usually in the form of a headache and other bodily pain due to dehydration. They referred to it as having a hangover. He had never seen the Captain in that state, so he could not compare his current condition to previous experiences. 

But the silence might have had a more emotional component. Humans used silence as a weapon with the slightest provocation. It was illogical, since problems could not be solved in a vacuum. There were many creatures in nature that thrived in spaces that lacked sunlight, and that was how Spock had learned to envision the strife and discord that so often flourished in human societies. Without direct communication, the irrational emotions of frustration and anger, or “hurt feelings,” would only be allowed to fester and grow.

If the Captain refused to speak to him because he felt ill, it was best to allow him the proper amount of time to recover. If the Captain refused to speak because he was angry at Spock, it was best to ascertain what had caused his anger and deal with the problem before it could grow worse.

Spock kept his mouth shut. 

Nyota had wanted to accompany them. Captain Kirk would have granted her request if she had asked him, but Spock had convinced her that her presence was not necessary. Perhaps if he had invited her to join them, she would be able to pull Kirk out of his shell. Kirk was always responsive to her—a curious fact given that she had not always been fond of him. But there was no point in thinking of that now since Spock hadn’t invited her to join them. 

She had demanded to know why he refused her offer, and none of the answers he had provided appeased her. He simply didn’t know how to explain that he wished to keep the experience as private as possible. More than that, he didn’t wish her to know—he didn’t wish anybody to know—just how illogically painful the memorial service would be for him. 

Spock turned his attention to the sensors, scanning the surrounding area for any unusual or alarming signs. A hint of danger would at least pull the Captain out of his stony silence, and though Spock never experienced boredom, he itched for something to do. Something active. Something productive. The various specimens they had collected from P-326 were not unique or particularly fascinating, but Spock found that when he was in the laboratory, he could concentrate on that and ignore the other troubling parts of his existence. 

His mother. Lieutenant Uhura. Jim Kirk. In that order. And now he was stuck in a small space where escape was impossible and distractions were minimal. For twelve hours before they’d be able to guide the shuttle into New Chicago.

Spock used his PADD to contact the Enterprise’s computers and pull up the latest reports from the laboratory. Nothing more than what he expected, and nothing beyond what he had already seen reported time and time again. He systematically went through the data bases, making sure that each deck, each department, was performing as it should. He could do very little from the shuttle to correct any errors or solve any problems, but he was still the first officer, and his primary function on the Enterprise was to ensure its smooth operation. 

That completed, he turned back to his sensors. They still detected nothing out of the ordinary. Spock had plenty of reading to do. He always did. But every time he made the attempt, he became indisputably aware of the Captain’s silence. It was almost like a third being, sitting between them in the shuttle. An unwelcome guest. Or perhaps it was more like a stone. A burden inexplicably yoked around his neck. 

Perhaps he did not like it because it was so unusual. Spock was, in effect, a captive audience. In the past, Captain Kirk had always taken advantage of similar situations. He was not a man who hurt for topics of discussion. Spock found that he had not only been expecting the same sort of discourse, and the lack of it was disconcerting. The Captain was a good conversationalist with a surprising depth of knowledge. Spock used to look forward to their discussions and debates that often lasted well into the night. But they hadn’t had one of those since…

Spock sighed. Regret was a fully human emotion. There was no point in feeling bad for events and decisions that could not be changed. It was a waste of time and energy. Yet, Spock could not find another descriptor for the sensations he experienced when he thought of Veridian III. More than anything, he regretted what was lost between them. 

“Have you been to New Chicago?” 

The question startled Spock, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased to hear it. “No, sir.” 

“Really? Even when you were at the Academy?” 

“I never had reason or opportunity to visit New Chicago.” 

“But that’s where your mother is from?” 

“Yes.” 

Jim had seemed engrossed in his PADD while he spoke, but now he looked up. “You never visited your mother’s family?” 

“When my mother married Sarek, she pledged her life to him and, by extension, Vulcan. She embraced the Vulcan ways and culture, and that included a certain…isolation from human influences.” 

“She…gave up her family for your father?” 

“She wished to please him when they wed. I never detected any…regret from her over the decision.” 

“So…” Jim set aside the PADD completely and leaned forward, his eyes bright with questions. “Have you ever met any of her…of _your_ family before?” 

“I have been introduced to a six of her relations. We met them once when visiting Alpha Centari. They were temporarily stationed there.” 

“I imagine there will be more than six people present at the service,” Kirk muttered. 

“Yes, that is a safe assumption to make.” 

“Is that why you didn’t want to go?” 

“I never said nor implied I did not wish to attend,” Spock said stiffly. 

“Right. That wasn’t the implication when you told your father you couldn’t get away from the Enterprise.” 

“I simply told Sarek that my responsibilities precluded an unscheduled trip to Earth. I did not say nor imply anything beyond that fact.” 

“But that’s not the complete truth. Your duties didn’t preclude making the trip. You either assumed that was the case, or you used the Enterprise as a handy excuse and hoped that Sarek wouldn’t investigate any further than that.” 

“My first responsibility is to the ship,” Spock said simply. “As long as I’m serving on board the Enterprise, that will not change.” 

“So you would put the ship in front of yourself? Your needs? Your own safety?” 

“Yes. As would you.” 

Jim exhaled. “Yeah. Yeah, as would I. But my point is, sometimes exceptions can be made. Like when the Enterprise is not in any danger and you’ve been asked to attend something as important as this.” 

Spock paused, considering the words before asking softly. “Why is it important?”

“What’s that?” 

“What is the significance? Why is it important that I attend?” 

“I…” Jim frowned. “Haven’t you ever been to one?” 

“No. They are not customary on Vulcan. Of course, Vulcans have their own rituals that mark the passage of a family member, but they all serve a specific function. I can discern no worthwhile function for this event.” 

“Well, I think the purpose of a memorial service is pretty self-explanatory, Spock.” 

“Is it? Let’s look at the title. A memorial exists to acknowledge an event and preserve a remembrance or a memory. It is highly unlikely that I will ever forget the destruction of my planet or the death of my mother. It utilizes an archaic definition of service, one that is related to religious ceremonies or a meeting of worship. My mother was not a theist, and the ceremonies that Vulcans perform were merely created to accomplish certain tasks. Therefore, I fail to see what service this event will be providing.” 

Jim stared throughout the explanation with the crease between his brows that always meant he was torn between surprise and confusion. “Spock…nobody thinks you’re ever going to forget about your mother or Vulcan. But funerals are meant to be…I don’t know. I guess you could say a celebration of the person’s life. Who they were, what they did, the people who loved them, the people they loved. It’s also a sign of respect. If you hadn’t attended, people would question your…they’d question…if you loved your mother.” 

“It is not any of their business what I…felt for her.” 

“You’re right. It’s not.” 

“Then why should I be concerned what they think?” 

Jim sighed. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Then I still fail to see the purpose of my attendance.” 

“It might be a chance to give you closure.” 

“Closure?” 

“You know, a sense of…moving on.” 

“And you think I should move on?” 

“No. Yes. Hell, I don’t know, Spock. It’s supposed to be healthy to work through all the emotions associated with grief, say your final goodbye, and then move on. I don’t know if that’s because it actually works, or it’s just because we need to do _something_ and this tradition doesn’t seem worse than any other. Haven’t you spoken to Uhura about any of this?” 

“She has attempted to discuss the issue, yes. But I do not wish to discuss it with her.” 

“You didn’t wish for her to join us, either, did you?” 

“No, I did not.” 

“Spock…she’s worried about you and you keep pushing her away.” 

“There’s no special need for her to be concerned about me.” 

“She’s noticed a difference in the way you treat her and in your general behavior. Is it…is it because of us?” 

“Us, Captain?” 

“You know what I mean Spock.” There was an undercurrent of irritation in the words and it made his voice tight. 

“What happened on Veridian III has in no way impacted my behavior or ability to function.” 

“So you really do just pretend that it never happened?” 

Jim shook his head, and suddenly, the shields of silence returned. Spock could feel the moment the conversation ended, and he did regret his choice of words. He had only meant to preserve the budding friendship between them. _That_ was real. _That_ was pure, free of tampering and manipulation. _That_ was something Spock could understand. Yet Jim steadfastly refused to see Spock’s logic. 

Something was being lost. Spock could feel it. The loss was senseless and random, like loss so often was. If Q had never interfered, their friendship would have continued to flourish, and Spock would have guarded it zealously. He would have done everything possible to nurture it. He would have treasured it for the rarity it was, after a lifetime of always being outside. Set apart from the rest. Friendship might not have been a concept familiar to Vulcans, but Spock could still recognize the power of that particular bond. 

Now that relationship had withered and Spock simply did not have the experience or the skill set to bring it back.


	4. Chapter 4

In its long and storied history, Chicago had served a multitude of purposes and meant a multitude of things to its inhabitants. But for Jim Kirk, it had only ever functioned as one thing. A doorway. Before joining Starfleet, he had lived off-planet twice. Each time, they had departed from New Chicago to the space dock, and both return trips were through New Chicago. He still vividly remembered walking down historical Michigan Avenue, his wide eyes taking in every single detail. Until that point, the largest city he had seen had boasted about a hundred thousand people. New Chicago was completely outside his reality and the boundaries of his imagination. 

Jim had desperately wanted to explore the city, but of course there hadn’t been time for that. Their shuttle to the space dock departed only three hours after their arrival. The second time he had traveled from the farm to New Chicago, he had been twelve. Plenty old enough to explore the city on his own, he thought just before taking off for destinations unknown. It hadn’t taken long for Joe to find him and the resulting bruise on his cheek didn’t fade for at least a week. The last time he had passed through New Chicago, he barely realized where he was. They just kept saying “You’re home now, it’ll be okay” and that had been a lie because he wasn’t home and he doubted things could ever be _okay_ again. 

Now he had the opportunity and means to explore the city, but all curiosity he had ever had about it had been wiped clean. What was new and exciting to a kid raised in Riverside, Iowa was remarkably dull to somebody who had spent the previous year in space. Maybe that was why his mother could never stand to be home for more than a few months at a time. 

Spock had arranged for the two of them to stay at the Starfleet base in New Chicago. They were each given a stateroom, and Jim couldn’t complain, though a part of him had wanted to. Who wanted to spend their shore leave on base? But this wasn’t technically a shore leave, and he didn’t plan to bring anybody back to his room, so what difference did it make? Besides, Spock seemed pleased with the accommodations, and that was all that really mattered. They were a bit smaller than their quarters on the ship, and Jim was amused to see that they were still stuck sharing a bathroom. The careful ballet would continue. 

“Well, Spock, what do you want to do tonight?” 

Spock didn’t look up from fastidiously emptying his bag. His room was identical to Jim’s, except for the incense he was already burning. One of these days, he’d have to ask why Spock did that. There must have been a logical reason, but Jim couldn’t figure it out. 

“Rest.” 

“Rest? We haven’t been doing anything but that for the past twelve hours.” 

“Eleven hours and twenty-two minutes.”

“That doesn’t really change my point, does it?” 

“What was your point, Captain?” 

“I’m tired of sitting around and I want to go out. You’ve never been to New Chicago. Don’t you want to see something?” 

“I did not come here with the intention of…sight-seeing.” 

“Don’t you want some food? I’m sure we can find something around here that serves some decent vegetarian dishes.” 

“I have received an invitation for tonight’s meal.” 

Jim frowned. “What sort of invitation?” 

“I received a transmission just before we landed from a Mr. Paul Grayson. Apparently, there is a family dinner tonight.” 

“Are you going to attend?” 

“I have no desire to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I do not know a Mr. Paul Grayson. He is apparently my mother’s brother.” 

“Your uncle. Why don’t I come with you?” 

“The invitation did not include you.” 

“So? Trust me, nobody’s going to say anything. And if they do, we’ll just tell them that we didn’t know the invitation was only meant for you.” 

“You’re suggesting we lie to them.” 

“A small one, yes. And don’t tell me that Vulcans are incapable of lying. Just keep your mouth shut and I’ll do the dirty work.” 

“We do not have to attend.” 

“Spock…it might be easier for you to meet them now instead of later. And if it’s too…weird for you, we won’t have to stay.” He wasn’t any more excited than Spock about meeting a bunch of strange people in a strange city on the eve of Amanda Grayson’s memorial service. But he did want to provide what support he could for his first officer—and what support Spock would allow him to provide. 

Besides that, Spock might consider Earth his home planet now, but he didn’t have an actual Terran _home_. His mother’s family could fill at least a little bit of the empty space left inside of him. If nothing else, they’d have stories of Amanda. Maybe even small mementos of her life that they’d be willing to give her son. Jim could admit to himself that he often wished he had known his father’s family. 

“Would it be rude to decline?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

“Then I shall let them know we’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll go get dressed and meet you back in here in…?” 

“Twenty minutes should suffice, Sir.” 

“Twenty minutes it is then.” 

#

“This is their _house_? Are you sure you have the address right?” Jim asked. 

“I assure you this is correct.” 

“This is the right street? It’s easy to get turned around here. We passed by two Brainbridge Streets.” 

“I am quite certain this is the right street,” Spock said with infinite patience. 

“Does this look right?” Jim adjusted his shirt, though it was perfectly unwrinkled. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. He wasn’t the one meeting his long lost relatives. Of course, meeting the family was always a little nerve-wracking. Not that he had a great deal of experience. Only two girls ever thought he was the sort of boy you should bring home to meet the parents. That might have had something to do with the fact that he was usually sporting a shiner. 

“Yes,” Spock assured him as he ringed the bell. 

“You look nice, too. You know, in case you were wondering about that.” 

“Thank you, but I was not.” 

Kirk tilted his head back, gazing up at the imposing building. It might have been a hotel, except Spock had insisted it was a residence. For one family. It had apparently been built during a retro-craze, because it looked a little like the buildings standing before third World War laid flat most of the urban areas. All of the windows were blazing with light but it didn’t _feel_ welcoming. He resisted the temptation to straighten his dress shirt once again. 

The door swung open soundlessly, revealing a very tall figure. Spock stepped forward. “Good evening. I’m Commander Spock and this is my guest, Captain James Kirk.” 

The man’s distant gray eyes flicked over them before he nodded. “Mr. Grayson is expecting you.”

“I had no idea your mother’s family was so affluent,” Kirk said under his breath as they stepped into the foyer. 

“Neither did I,” Spock returned softly. 

The house wasn’t just large. It was ostentatious. Not a word that would usually come to Jim’s mind, but once it occurred to him, he couldn’t shake it. The antique art on the walls, the unbelievably high ceilings, the pink marble beneath their feet, even the lighting—all of it was ostentatious. Spock glanced around without any apparent interest. He was merely doing what they were trained to do when entering alien environment. Take in as many details as possible, including any dangerous areas and all possible exits. As near as Jim could tell, there was only one way back out. 

Money might have become obsolete around the time most of the world governments fell to their own ambitions, but the powerful still existed. Jim didn’t know exactly what Paul Grayson did, or the connections he had, but Jim did recognize when he was stepping into a palace. 

“You must be Spock.” 

They turned at the sound of the deep, mechanic voice. The man who addressed them looked normal at first glance, but on second inspection it was easier to see the vague, boxy shape of a voice box bulging in his throat. Spock stepped forward and bowed shallowly in a respectful Vulcan greeting. “Yes, sir. And you must be Mr. Grayson.” 

“We shake hands here, son.” 

Jim tensed, the back of his neck prickling with tension. The tone itself was completely inappropriate, but in the past year, he had never seen Spock shake hands with anybody. Jim had the vague sense that it was rude to shake a Vulcan’s hand. Especially since their fingers were so sensitive. Thinking of Spock’s sensitive fingers made his mind drift to the way those same fingers tasted, but he quickly squashed that thought. Now wasn’t the time or place. Especially since Spock was looking at his uncle like he was a particularly rude child. It was a sort of mixture of long-suffering patience and disbelief that somebody could be so uncouth. 

“I do not, sir.” 

Jim quickly stepped forward and held out his own hand, hoping that would distract the older man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“And you are?” 

“James Kirk.” 

“I wasn’t aware that you were bringing a guest.” 

His eyes were hard under bushy gray brows, but not as flinty as his voice. He sounded like Spock had dropped trou and relieved himself in the fountain. Spock’s face was growing just as stony, and the tension in the room crawled along Jim’s spine. He had figured there wouldn’t be a problem with his arrival, but clearly what was acceptable in a small Iowan town was not as tolerated in a city like New Chicago. And he thought negotiating alien customs was difficult. 

“My apologies. Jim is my…” 

Jim just knew Spock was going to say something like _captain_ , not understanding that that title would mean next to nothing to a man like Paul Grayson. “Boyfriend,” he said quickly, then turned on his brightest smile. The one that usually worked on actual circuit judges. “I wanted to accompany Spock for moral support in this difficult time. It was a last minute decision.”

Paul’s brows came together in a bushy frown. After only a second, he took Jim’s hand and shook it with a firm grip. “I should be the one apologizing. I was just startled. You’re right. It is a very trying time for all of us. Come. The table is already prepared.” 

He turned his back and Spock immediately shot daggers Jim’s direction. _What was that?_

Jim didn’t know if he had only imagined Spock’s angry question or if the words were actually broadcast in his mind. He shrugged, putting his hands up in an innocent gesture. _I was only trying to help._

The dining room was about what Jim had expected from a house like that. The table was long, each place set with antique china and silver. He didn’t think he had seen anything so _fancy_ in his life, and he realized that he didn’t know the proper etiquette for this sort of thing. Yeoman Rand and Lieutenant Uhura had taken turns helping him learn the rules of the various formal functions and State dinners, but that was because they always had different rules. Nobody expected him to be knowledgeable of every culture, and dining etiquette was probably the most important across the board. Even more important than bedroom etiquette, in Jim’s experience. But nobody had ever taken the time to teach him the various rules for a meal like this. He supposed they all assumed he would know what to do in his own society. Would Spock know what to do? 

Probably. Spock did make it a point to know everything, after all. 

The other guests had already arrived and every single person in the room turned to stare at them openly. Conversations came to an immediate stop, and one woman didn’t even lower the glass of wine from her mouth as she stared at them. Jim switched gears, flashing them all the smile that said _Yes, in fact, this room does belong to me._ It was a little more arrogance than he would have planned to use, but he had the feeling that just charm wouldn’t work on these people. 

“This is Spock,” Paul announced. “And this is James Kirk.” 

“Captain of the star ship Enterprise,” Jim cut in. 

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind waiting while Howard sets another place for you.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Spock, I hope you don’t mind sitting next to me.” 

Spock inclined his head but didn’t move. Paul’s ever present frown deepened, and as his confusion grew, Jim realized the problem. 

“He’s waiting for me,” Jim said under his breath. 

“What on earth for?” 

Jim glanced down to his chest, where his rank was clearly displayed. He didn’t say, _Hello, Captain here_ but he didn’t have to. “You don’t have to wait.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Sir? There’s only room for Captain Kirk at the other end of the table,” Howard said in a low voice. 

“That’s fine,” Jim said quickly, not caring if Howard wasn’t addressing him. He just wanted to sit down so everybody would stop _staring_ at him. Usually he didn’t mind being the center of attention, but this was a little ridiculous. 

After a small eternity, Jim’s place was prepared. At the far end of the table. About as far from Spock as he could possibly be. He smiled at the people around him as he took his place, but he couldn’t keep his attention from drifting to Spock. He was literally too far away from Spock to hear what was being said, and trying to read Spock’s face was a complete waste of time. He wasn’t offering anybody a single hint. 

“So,” the woman to his immediate left began, “Captain Kirk…”

“Please, call me Jim,” he responded. 

“Jim.” She smiled, and the gesture reached her large, dark eyes. Jim had always thought Spock’s eyes were Vulcan, but now looking at this young lady, he realized the family resemblance was uncanny. Thin, dark brows arched upward, and her full mouth was pulled into a sweet smile. “I’m Elena.” She gestured at the man sitting beside her. “This is my brother, Adam. And that’s Matthew and his wife, Rachel.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” 

“The pleasure is ours,” Rachel said, her voice surprisingly deep. “Your reputation precedes you, Captain Kirk.” 

“Ah, so people around here have heard of me.” 

“It’s difficult to avoid mention of you,” Rachel said with a small smile. “You did save the world, after all.” 

“I had a hand with that. In fact, Spock did all the hard parts.” 

“Yet you were the one who was promoted to Captain,” Matthew said. “Of course, I heard they wouldn’t give a Vulcan a ship.” 

“Where did you hear that?” Jim asked sharply. 

“Oh, around. Here and there. People started talking when the news broke that Spock wouldn’t be awarded an entire ship,” Matthew said blandly. 

“Commander Spock has been the recipient of several medals and commendations, including two for courage under fire during the Nero incident.” 

“Jim…” Elena touched his arm, pulling his attention from Nero. “Did you know Amanda?” 

“No. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to meet her.” Except for the version of her he met in the nexus, but he didn’t think that counted. “I’ve heard a great deal about her, though, and she sounded like an amazing lady.” 

“She was,” Matthew cut in. “Unfortunately, several of the people here tonight never had the chance to meet her. Or were too young at the time to remember it. He took her away from her family.” 

Jim kept the easy smile. “She was an adult when she married Sarek, wasn’t she?” 

“I don’t think now is the appropriate time to talk about this,” Elena said. “Or the place. Captain, I’m sorry. I think we all wish we could have had more time with Amanda. It’s still difficult to accept she’s really gone.” 

“Of course. And please, call me Jim.” 

“Jim.” Once again, her smile met her lovely eyes. Jim couldn’t say for sure, but he thought she was probably one of the ones who were too young to remember Amanda. She certainly didn’t seem like she could be much over his own twenty-six years. “Living on a star ship must be so exciting. I always wanted to join Starfleet, but my father didn’t approve.” 

“That’s Starfleet’s loss then. But you know, it’s never too late to live your dream.” 

She laughed. “I’m afraid it might be, though perhaps one day I could have a tour of your ship?” 

“Any time you want one, I will personally see to it and give you the grand tour myself. I’d offer to take you up there now, but we traveled to Earth by shuttle.” 

“Why is that?” Matthew asked. 

“It was a rather quick shuttle ride and there was no reason to divert the ship from her course. But if I had known there’d be such an interest in her, I would have happily changed her course.” 

Elena lifted her glass to her lips to hide her pleased smile, but Jim recognized the flush on her cheeks. That had been easier than he anticipated. Now he just needed to charm everybody else at the table. A tricky proposition. There were at least twenty-four people, but Jim thought he might be up to the challenge. 

The back of his neck itched again, and he casually leaned forward, trying to get a better angle for studying Spock. It didn’t do much good, but he could still tell Spock was very uncomfortable. His shoulders were stiff and high, and his hands were resting in his lap, as if he was afraid they would just start grabbing at them with no warning. He appeared to be listening to something Paul was saying, but Jim couldn’t tell if that was the source of his discomfort. 

“I didn’t think he’d look like that,” Adam said under his breath. 

“You never met Sarek?” 

“No. I saw an image of him once, but I guess I assumed Spock would look more…human.” 

“What’s wrong with the way he looks?” Jim asked. 

“Come on. I know you’re used to it, but don’t act like we’re jerks for noticing.” 

“Noticing what?” 

“That he’s a freak,” Matthew said before Adam could. 

“Matt!” Elena exclaimed. 

“What? He asked what’s wrong with the way Spock looked, and I told him.” 

“He’s still your cousin. He’s still family.” 

“Is he?” Adam asked. “We were discussing that yesterday and I wasn’t convinced them. I’m even less convinced now.” 

“What’s there to be convinced of?” Jim asked, not believing his own ears and hoping that things were going better at Spock’s end of the table. 

“You do know how Spock was _conceived_ don’t you?” Matthew said the word like it was something dirty. Jim noticed that Elena was flushing again, though now it was with anger rather than pleasure. She didn’t voice another protest, though. Jim thought they probably both realized the futility of that. 

“It makes no difference to me,” Jim said, with a tone that meant _it shouldn’t make a difference to you._

“He was created in a glass tube. Probably grown in a lab somewhere.” 

Jim’s lips thinned. “What difference does it make?” 

“It makes a lot of difference to me. That Amanda’s only child isn’t even really her son.” 

Jim prayed that Spock couldn’t hear the conversation, but he knew better. He had pretty sharp ears, and Jim had seen him respond to conversations that were happening further away from him and at a lower register. 

“Spock was her son in any and every way that counted,” Jim said tightly. 

“You’ll have to excuse these two,” Rachel said. “They thought of Amanda like a sister. The three of them grew up together and were close.” 

“If that’s the case, they should be excited to have the opportunity to meet her son. Especially since she was so proud of him and his accomplishments.” 

“He doesn’t even look like her.” Adam’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Believe what you want, Captain, but if you believe for a second Amanda would have been about everybody meeting under these circumstances…” 

“Well, no, I guess she wouldn’t be happy about these particular circumstances,” Jim said. “But she’d be appalled if she heard you right now.” 

“You didn’t even know her.” 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know a prick when I meet one.” 

Both Adam and Matthew stiffened, but it was Adam who turned in his chair to address him. “Excuse me?” 

“What? I’m pretty sure you heard me.” 

“That is unbelievably rude.” 

“Is it?” Jim leaned forward, catching a whiff of Elena’s perfume as he did. “You’ll have to excuse me. Something of the Vulcans’ directness must have rubbed off on me. Prick. You want to know what I think?” 

“No,” Adam sneered. “I think we’ve all heard quite enough from you.” 

“I think the reason Spock bothers you so much is that he’s a reminder. You look at him and you remember that Amanda loved something more than she ever loved any of you.” 

“No, that’s not the reason,” Matthew said in a clipped tone. “He bothers me because when I look at him, I see a green-blooded elf. A freak of nature that shouldn’t exist at all. He couldn’t even be born without the use of cutting edge genetic engineering. Don’t you think that’s enough of a clue that he shouldn’t have been born at all?” 

“Apologize.” 

“What?” 

“Apologize,” Jim repeated through gritted teeth. “I’m giving you the chance to apologize.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Jim pushed away from the table and jumped to his feet with enough force to send the chair flying. The clatter of it hitting the floor silenced the entire table for the second time since their arrival. And, for the second time, every eye in the room was on him. Jim barely noticed them. The room had narrowed down to one hateful face. 

“I’ll make you.” 

A coolly logical voice told Jim not to do this. _Sit back down_ it said, _now isn’t the time._ But his blood was already running hot in his veins, and Spock must have heard what Matthew said. There was no way he’d miss it. It honestly never occurred to Jim that anybody would speak so hatefully about Spock. If it had, he would have acted as Spock’s cover story. He would have happily embraced the reputation of being a jerk and a hard ass if it meant sparing Spock this. 

“Let me rephrase. I won’t.” 

Perhaps Matthew had assumed that Jim was bluffing. He was the captain of a starship, wearing his dress suit, taking a meal in a powerful man’s home on the night before they all gathered to pay respects to that man’s sister. Anybody else would have thought twice before balling his hand into a fist. But Jim wasn’t anybody else. And he was moving before Matthew finished speaking.


	5. Chapter 5

Satisfaction blossomed in his chest as Matthew’s bones ground beneath his knuckles. He only got one hit in before strong hands dragged him backwards, but the hit definitely counted. Blood flowed freely down Matthew’s face, and his nose was already starting to swell. He’d probably have a black eye, too. Still, Jim wished he could do more. He wished he could pummel the asshole until he was begging Spock to forgive him. But whoever had grabbed him was pulling him backwards, increasing the space between them until Matthew was completely out of reach. 

“What is going on here?” Paul thundered from his place at the head of the table, his mechanical voice surprisingly loud. 

Another pair of hands grabbed at him. Ones Jim recognized. He stilled, but his hands were still tight fists and his heart hammered in his ears. “Captain?” 

“Get this madman out of here!” Matthew said, clutching a napkin to his nose. Blood already dotted his shirt. “He just attacked me for no reason.” 

“I had a reason!” Jim protested. 

The beautiful Elena looked at him with stricken eyes, Rachel seemed bored by the whole thing, and Adam seemed like he wanted to return the favor to Jim’s face. All except Elena had at least twenty years on him, maybe even twenty-five, but they didn’t look like people who had grown old and soft. Even Paul seemed like he wanted to have a go at Jim. 

“Come, Captain.” He gripped Jim’s upper arm with a strength that couldn’t be denied and pulled him towards the door. 

“Spock…” 

Spock responded to the half-hearted protest with a slight squeeze of his fingers, and Jim—surprised by the small show of aggression—didn’t protest again. Not until they were outside on the street. 

“Spock, look--.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“You heard what he said. You must have.” 

“That is not an explanation for your actions.” 

“It _is_ an explanation for my actions. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let him talk like that?” 

Spock began to walk, his long strides carrying him farther and farther away. Jim had to hurry to catch up. “Yes. Responding with violence was irrational and offensive.” 

“He had it coming.” 

“He did not, as you say, have it coming. He is allowed to express any opinion he wishes. Especially in his own home and his own dinner table.” 

“Listen to yourself. How can you say that? You’re here at _their_ invitation, and all he could do was talk about how…Christ, Spock! You _heard_ him.” 

“Once again, that is not a reasonable explanation for your actions. Violence is never an acceptable response.” 

“Oh, really? I used basically the same language to goad you into beating the shit out of me. And now you’re going to lecture me on the inappropriateness of my response?” 

Jim thought that was quite stellar logic, but Spock’s strides didn’t even falter. Judging by the line of his body and the set look on his face, a part of Spock would like to beat the shit out of Jim at that very moment. 

“I was emotionally compromised at the time. You knew that and you used it to your advantage to reach your goal.” 

“How do you know I wasn’t emotionally compromised from the shit that guy was spewing?” Jim grabbed Spock by the arm. “Look at me. I was defending you.” 

“I do not need you to defend me, Captain.” 

“You were uncomfortable. I felt it. What was that Paul saying to you?” 

“It was a private discussion and none of your concern.” 

“Was it the same type of garbage? Was he laying some guilt trip on you because of a choice Amanda made nearly thirty years ago?” 

“That is none of your concern.” 

“It _is_ my concern,” Jim insisted, the volume of his voice climbing with each word. “How can you say it isn’t any of my concern when somebody insults you like that?” 

“Because it is not,” Spock snapped, as quiet as Jim was loud. “As my captain, you are not obligated to…to…” 

“Defend your honor?” Jim finished. “If I embarrassed you, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for hitting that asshole. I gave him the chance to apologize for what he said.” 

“You seem as though you are determined to misinterpret me.” 

“I’m not misinterpreting anything at all.” 

“You behaved illogically and violently. You did embarrass me.” 

“They should be the ones who are embarrassed, Spock.” 

He moved without thinking, putting a friendly hand on Spock’s shoulder. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done a thousand times before. Even in the last four months, he had the tendency to touch Spock in casual, thoughtless ways. But for the first time, Spock jerked away from the contact, as though he couldn’t bear the weight of Jim’s fingers on his flesh. Jim dropped his hand, but he did nothing to disguise the hurt on his face. Spock studied him for a moment, not offering any apology or explanation, then turned sharply on his heel and continued towards the base. 

Jim didn’t follow. The conversation was clearly over. He certainly didn’t have anything else to say. He knew he shouldn’t have lashed out like that, but he simply didn’t understand how Spock could think that he’d sit there and listen to all that garbage quietly. Even if Spock wasn’t the center of his Universe—and for the past four months he had been exactly that—Jim _still_ wouldn’t have tolerated that. Nobody talked about his friends and his crew like that. Spock was not only the best first officer a captain could ask for, he was a brilliant science officer, strong, trustworthy, and loyal. Jim had no doubt that Spock embodied everything Amanda would have found praiseworthy, so who were they to say _anything_ negative about Spock? 

It wouldn’t have done any good to try to explain that, so instead of returning to his quarters, he veered to his right. He had a sort of sixth sense when it came to finding bars in strange cities, and it never let him down. It took less than ten minutes to find just the sort of establishment he was looking for--The Stage Door. A wave of loud music hit him as soon as he opened the door, and that was quickly followed by the stench of beer and too much good time. Jim smiled, not feeling the least bit out of place despite his dress uniform. 

He swaggered up to the bar and gestured for a drink. “A Bud Classic.” 

The bartender nodded, and Jim settled down to survey the clientele. The place was pretty full, and the band in the corner was loud, but they weren’t a bunch of rowdy kids. Most of them were wearing strange clothes and make-up. Which meant the bar either catered to off worlders, or he was somewhere near the theater district. 

The bartender set a bottle in front of Jim, but he resisted the urge to drop his head back and guzzle it. He needed a drink, but he didn’t plan to stay for too long. For one thing, he still wanted to talk to Spock. For another, the last thing he needed was a hangover like the one he had suffered after his night of drinking and commiserating with Bones. It had been too long since he had done that, and his body clearly wasn’t accustomed to the abuse. 

But he had a high enough tolerance that two wouldn’t hurt. He downed his drink and called out for a second one. The back of his neck still itched, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his own anger or if he could still feel Spock. Why couldn’t he just be happy that somebody _wanted_ to stand up for him? Why couldn’t he appreciate the gesture for what it was? 

_Because he probably doesn’t even consider you a friend anymore and captains don’t go around beating up people who insult their crew._

Jim scowled at the calm voice. Lately, every thought he didn’t want to have had been in Spock’s voice. Like he wasn’t being tormented enough by the Vulcan. Unfortunately, the voice made a sad sort of sense. He didn’t think there were any instances when Spock would consider it appropriate for Jim to slam his fist into somebody’s face at a dinner party, but Spock might have been more inclined to forgive him if there wasn’t already such a distance between them. 

Without realizing it, he finished off the second bottle and gestured for a third. 

Maybe it was time to just accept that. After all, Spock wasn’t changing his story about what he could or couldn’t feel. Something niggled the back of his memory, but it was just a small tickle. Easily dismissed. And clearly the Vulcan wanted to put distance between himself and anybody who might care for him. Otherwise, Nyota wouldn’t be tearing her hair out, trying to figure out just what was wrong with Spock and what she could do to fix it. 

Nothing could be done to fix it. That was the thing. And she probably knew it, too. Some part of her must have realized that if Spock wanted to turn inward and build defenses that nobody could ever break down, then he would do exactly that. She could fight with him. She could argue with him, plead with him, coax him. It wouldn’t make any difference at all. In the end, both Jim and Uhura would be nursing a broken heart—broken in the same way, in the same place, by the same person. 

“Maybe it’ll be a bonding experience,” Jim muttered, eyeing the level of beer in his bottle. “The two of us can become great friends over it.” 

“Do you usually talk to your drink?” 

Jim looked up, prepared to tell the owner of the voice to shove off, but the words died on his lips. The woman responsible for the question was looking at him with the greenest eyes he had ever seen. She had a gentle smile, and her flawless skin shone with a pink health, even in the bar’s dim and unflattering light. She wore her hair up in an elaborate braid on top of her head, exposing the perfect curve of her neck. A neck that Jim could absolutely imagine kissing in the right circumstances. She wore a simple dress with a plunging neckline. One that was designed to draw his attention to her cleavage. And it worked. 

“Not usually. But we’re already getting to be good friends. What are you having, Ms--?” 

“Lydia. A Kardassian Sunrise.” 

“Make it two,” Jim said before the bartender moved away. 

“Won’t your beer be jealous?” 

Kirk grinned. “Maybe, but I think I’m in the mood for something with more of a kick.” 

Her gaze traveled up and down his body. “How long are you in town for, sailor?” 

“Just a few days.” 

“I guess that means you’re the love them and leave them type?” 

“Just until I find somebody who wants me to stick around.” 

She arched her thin eyebrow, which only made her green eyes seem even wider. “Why do I have the feeling that’s why you’re drinking?” 

“Must be a woman’s intuition.” 

“Is it right?” 

Jim offered a lopsided grin before finishing the third bottle. “Of course, you’re right.” 

“Whoever she is, she must have something wrong with her.” 

“How do you know that the problem isn’t with me?” Jim asked. “What if I’m a real bastard?” 

“Oh, I know you’re not.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

Her pink lips parted to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth. He caught the faintest hint of peppermint, like she had been sucking on candy earlier. “I’m an excellent judge of character. I can…read people.” 

“Really? Can you read me?” 

The drinks arrived and she brought her straw to her lips. They formed a perfect seal around it, and Jim wondered why he couldn’t look away. After all, he had seen women drink from straw before. But something about the insignificant gesture captivated him. 

“Yes, but not here.” 

Jim cocked his head. “Do you have a better place in mind?” 

“There are rooms upstairs.” 

“But we just got our drinks.” 

“Well, I’d hate to pull you away from your new friends.” She gestured at the empty bottles. “But I think I can help you more than they can.” 

She could definitely help him. Maybe a few hours spent with her would help get a certain Vulcan, and his disapproving eyes, out of Jim’s head. He pulled the straw out of his sunrise, tossing it away before gulping the drink down. The alcohol hit his system with more force than the beer, turning his mind to slush and lighting his nerve endings on fire. The grin he shot her was sloppy, and the floor tilted a bit as he hopped off the barstool, but he had no problems following her up the narrow stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

Spock forced himself to perform his nightly routine, focusing on each small act as though he was performing a critical task on the bridge of the Enterprise. He didn’t just undress. He slowly disrobed, ensuring that he didn’t add a single wrinkle to his uniform. He dressed with the same care, selecting the traditional Vulcan robe so he could properly meditate. He turned down the lights and lit the candles he had brought with him as though performing some archaic ritual. An archaic ritual with great importance and meaning. Once done, he settled on the floor in the traditional position, forcing his breath and heart rate to slow. He focused his thoughts completely on each act, calling on every second of training he had received since the cradle to dampen the strong emotions roiling in his stomach. 

On one level, the techniques worked exactly as he expected. Physically, he was in a much calmer state than when Jim had marched away with a defiantly hurt look on his face. Like he was proud of his pain and he wanted Spock to be completely aware of the damage he had inflicted. But his peaceful physical condition was meant to promote complete harmony in his mind as well, and his mind was far from that ideal state. 

When the usual methods of meditation failed to make a difference, he switched to numbers. It didn’t matter the planet, the quadrant, or the galaxy—numbers were always the same. The multiplication tables would never change. Neither would the square root of sixteen thousand two hundred and eight-five. Three would always divide into two hundred and thirteen equally. The Universe simply made the most sense when analyzed mathematically, and that face never failed to comfort him. 

Until now. 

_They should be the ones who are embarrassed, Spock._ The words were loud and clear, spoken directly in his ear, as though he hadn’t spent the past sixteen point seven minutes trying to empty his mind of all distractions. Perhaps it would be best to analyze the source of his emotions. In his experience, emotions rarely bore the pressure of a close analysis. All he needed to do was start at the base of the feelings and then dismantle them one by one until reason triumphed. 

_What are you feeling?_

Anger. 

_What else is there?_

Humiliation. 

_What else?_

Pain. 

_Good. Why anger?_

Because of the events of the evening. He had made the wrong choice in telling Jim about the invitation, and he had compounded that mistake by several more, including inviting Jim to attend with him. 

_No. Stop. Do not lie to yourself. Why anger?_

Because of the events of the evening. It had not been wrong to attend the dinner party, as he had made the journey to Earth at the behest of the same people who extended the dinner invitation. It was only logical to attend. He also understood Jim’s decision to accompany him. Not because he had needed Jim’s support—as he called it—but because he understood that humans in a similar situation would appreciate the presence of their friends. Perhaps Jim had suspected there would be coldness in the way Amanda’s family treated Spock. He was a very perceptive person, especially when it came to emotions. He might have foreseen the trouble.

 _Why anger?_

Because of the events of the evening. Spock had simply not anticipated the depth of emotion he had sensed from the other members of the dinner party, even though Amanda had once told him the family hadn’t forgiven her choice to marry Sarek and embrace her new life on Vulcan. They were curious about him. Every look betrayed that curiosity, but ultimately, they resented him. He had not been prepared for that because he failed to take into account all possible scenarios. Because he had not been prepared, he reacted emotionally himself. His emotional reaction had been strong enough to transfer to Jim, who in turn had reacted like a man who was simply too overwhelmed by emotional stimuli to think clearly. 

Spock wasn’t angry at the Grayson family. He wasn’t angry at Jim. He was angry at himself for once again losing control and forcing the consequences onto Jim. But Spock had had no intention of putting Jim in that situation and since he had not acted maliciously or with intent, he could not be blamed for the consequences. Therefore, his anger was illogical and should be dismissed. 

Pleased with the conclusion, he waited for that very thing to happen. But his anger didn’t float away like a shuttle unfettered from its ship. It remained locked in place, as heavy as a brick in his stomach. Perhaps the chain that kept it there was guilt. He had lashed out at Jim, and while he did not condone Jim’s actions, he shouldn’t have behaved like he didn’t understand exactly what prompted him. 

He would apologize. He didn’t doubt Jim would accept the…

An unexpected emotion interrupted his thought. Moving with a stilted jerk, he cradled his head against his palm, trying to will the pain away. He couldn’t place the source at first. Not with the sharp pain slashing through his skull, focalized behind his left eye. Somebody was trying to break through his mental shields. But that didn’t seem right somehow. He doubled over, unable to escape the shout of pain as another fresh attack swept through him. 

Spock’s barriers were strong. A natural result of a lifetime of training, as well as the constant reinforcements he was forced to create due to living with emotional creatures who had no concept of mental barriers. They could not stop themselves from projecting onto Spock, and he had learned at Amanda’s knee how to protect himself and not invade the privacy of an unshielded mind. But he had never experienced anything like this. 

No, that wasn’t _right_. Why couldn’t he think? He had experienced something like this, but not at the same intensity. It was like tuning a communicator to get the proper frequency. There was nothing but a high pitched buzzing, like insects droning directly in his ear, but if he concentrated hard enough…if he focused…he could tune himself to the right frequency. There was a hint of something familiar…something…

 _Arousal._

It was Jim. 

Realizing the source helped Spock gain a bit of control over it, but the pain merely shifted to a different area. Jim was with somebody else. At that moment, he was touching, holding, caressing, kissing somebody else. Somebody who wasn’t him. 

The anger washing through him acted as a temporary distraction from the sudden pain, and he jumped to his feet, his meditation over. He began to pace, his long legs easily covering the entire length of the apartment in a few strides. He was breaking apart, his mind automatically processing the information and compartmentalizing it. There were endless considerations to process but they all led back to the same conclusion. 

Jealousy. This had to be jealousy. He vaguely recalled the emotion from his childhood. He had been jealous of the peace the other children his age had. They never were forced to defend their heritage or their very existence. More than once, he had indulged in simple fantasies to keep the bitter, alien emotion at bay. Or perhaps he had indulged in the fantasies at the behest of the emotion, serving _it_ as so many humans ended up serving every emotional whim and impulse. 

But this was different. The bitter jealousy didn’t just exist inside of him. It encompassed him. 

#

“Oh…Christ…” 

Lydia glanced up with a slow smile. “Do you like that?” 

“What?” Jim blinked, trying to clear his head. “Oh yeah…baby…that was great.” 

He held his breath, hoping that was the right reaction. She lowered her head again, her mouth skimming over the tip of his cock. He was still hard, but something was beating a rapid tattoo of pain against his skull, and if that continued, he wouldn’t have a boner for long, regardless of how talented Lydia was with her mouth. He took several deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth like Bones had taught him to do to control his pain. Jim had been surprised by how often that little trick actually worked, but it was failing him now. No amount of controlled breathing could make a difference to the shards of pain behind his eyes. 

Normally, he would try to work out the possible source of pain in a, well, logical way, but it was difficult to think logically when a beautiful woman had his cock in her mouth. Jim was certain that was a universal truth, and probably why there was so much strife in the galaxy. Men making decisions while their mental capacities were somewhat diminished by restrictive blood flow. 

But he had felt this before. He knew it. If he could just think…

Lydia moved her mouth further down his length, swallowing him slowly. Just a slow, deliberate inch at a time. Like she had all night and nothing else to do with her time. He supposed that was probably true, and any other time he would have stared up at the ceiling and enjoyed her natural talents, but this wasn’t any other time. The agony was only increasing, like it was trying to punch a hole right through his skull. 

_Into_ him. 

Jim’s eyes widened. He had only ever met one person who could do that, and more importantly, would try to do that to him. 

Spock. Was Spock trying to reach him somehow? Was he broadcasting through the link he claimed didn’t exist though it obviously did? Or was this unintentional? Jim couldn’t really believe that Spock was doing this on purpose. Not when he had devoted the past four months to ignoring the link altogether. But if Spock wasn’t doing this on purpose, did that mean he was in some sort of trouble? 

“Wait…stop…” 

She didn’t move at first. Maybe she didn’t hear him. Or maybe she just thought he was joking. Because who in their right mind would tell her to stop? But Jim wasn’t in his right mind. 

“Stop,” he repeated, pushing at her shoulder. 

She lifted her head, irritation plain on her face. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“Just…just give me a second…” 

He would need all of his resources to try to figure out just what the hell was pushing at his mind, demanding entrance. He didn’t doubt that Spock was responsible, but why? Did he need Jim? He hated himself a little bit for it, but he would push Lydia away and go running to Spock’s side like an eager puppy if he thought for a second that the Vulcan wanted him. 

At first, Jim couldn’t pick out any one emotion. He was getting pretty good at sifting through the vague impressions Spock often left in his mind. But this wasn’t an impression, like a footprint in wet sand. This was much stronger. Permanent. 

Jim curled his fingers in the sheet and yielded to the pressure in his mind. A foreign emotion immediately filled him, wrapping itself like green tendrils around him. It was literally the last thing he expected to feel. 

Spock was jealous? 

#

For three point eight seconds, all the pain faded. Not because he lost the connection with Jim, but because he lowered his shields enough to relieve the pressure. Or perhaps it was because the sensations he was receiving from Jim had changed. There was still the undercurrent of arousal, but now Spock also sensed curiosity and surprise. Like something had happened that Jim didn’t expect. Something that pleased him. 

Spock’s brow darkened, his shields went back up, and the pain returned. He pushed himself to his feet, moving stiffly, unsure of what he wanted to do or where he thought he was going. He could feel each vein throbbing, pushing more blood to his head, to the source of the pain. He needed to calm down. If he didn’t, he ran the risk of overtaxing his system. The sudden influx of emotions would not kill him, but they could make him ill in the middle of a city with no possibility of aid. Even Dr. McCoy would be preferable to nothing. He was at least somewhat familiar with Vulcan physiology. 

But how could he force himself to calm when he couldn’t block the connection? There had been nothing like this in the previous four months. But Captain Kirk had not had the opportunity to be intimate with anybody else in that time. The part of Spock that was still thinking, still processing each packet of information, filed that fact away, and offered a new fact for Spock to consider: he had not been intimate with Uhura in the previous four months. 

Jealousy still twisted through Spock, and he lurched forward, reaching for the nearest table to brace himself. He gripped the edge, unmindful of his own strength. He wasn’t surprised when it snapped in his hand, like the sturdy table had been made from nothing more than cardboard. He straightened his aching fingers and dropped the pieces, observing as they hit the floor. He didn’t feel like he was watching his own actions. He was disoriented, like the world had slid out of place and was trying to find its proper slot again. The table seemed too far to the right, the door too far to the left, and Spock was caught, unmoving, unable to do anything except nurse the pain. 

How could Jim even consider being intimate with somebody else? Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he know that he belonged to—belonged with—Spock? But he did know. Hadn’t he been arguing that very fact since returning from Veridian III? He had insisted over and over that Q had not been responsible for _his_ emotions. He had owned every single feeling and every single action, as though he hadn’t been horrified and disgusted to learn that he was nothing more than a puppet to some megalomaniac’s whims.  
Jim had felt so much guilt for what he had done after their first mind meld. Spock could feel it radiating from him for weeks after they left Veridian III. Every time Jim stood close to him, or touched him, he felt it. A silent, unnecessary apology. Jim understood something horrible happened that night, but instead of putting the blame on the culprit, he accepted it all. Jim didn’t give himself any other option--in order to claim their second night together he had to own the first night. 

Spock couldn’t quite accept that. 

And now he was paying for it with red hot blades of agony slicing through his skull. 

Find Jim. He needed to find Jim. If he did, the pain would end. He’d be able to think again. Everything would be set right. They could return to the shuttle, and return to the Enterprise, and return to the life they were creating for themselves. It wasn’t a perfect life by any means, but when they were on the Enterprise, their existence was their own. 

He stumbled towards the door, still clutching his head with one hand. There had to be a way to find Jim. Spock didn’t know what he would do once he found his captain. Or rather, he couldn’t admit what he was going to do. His brain was still working, the processors continuing beneath the pain, guiding him. Prompting him to put one foot in front of another, until he was out of his room. Then he was outside the base. And then he was heading north, back to place where he had pulled away from Jim’s touch because he had ached for more. 

#

Jim didn’t know exactly what happened. His mind was miles away from the beautiful woman stretched out between his splayed legs, though his body was still right with her. He didn’t have enough experience with telepathic links to even begin to deal with the emotions blasting his through him. He couldn’t control it, and every time he tried to shut it out, the pain returned. The only way to avoid feeling like his head was about to break like a ripe melon was to just let everything flow into him. Spock’s jealousy, his confusion, his possessiveness, his anger, his pain. 

He had been twelve and visiting his mother on Rigel 17 once when a dam broke. It had been about thirty kilometers from the base, and the base itself had been on one of the planet’s highest peaks. From there, Jim had watched a huge salt flat become submerged. The water rushed to fill up every nook, every crack, every space that existed between the grains of salt. In less than thirty minutes, the face of the planet had changed, and what had once been a white desert became a sea. The base was suddenly on the beach. 

Jim couldn’t lose that image. He just saw the first rush of water again and again, on a loop through his mind. It didn’t matter if he had his eyes opened or closed. It didn’t matter if he stared at the ceiling or concentrated on Lydia’s beautiful face. All he saw, all he heard, was the sudden swell of water, forming a huge wall before it crashed into place. He barely noticed when Lydia straddled him, and didn’t realize what she intended to do until she sank onto his erection, impaling herself. 

“Oh…” Jim’s throat worked as he tried to breathe, his back arching. Her flesh was hot and tight, and it wrapped around him in the most maddening way. She rose above him until he felt like he was falling backwards as she floated higher. A great distance separated them, but Jim didn’t know how that could be. Not when their bodies were connected, locked together. But his mind was still on the dam, on the changing face of the planet, on Spock. 

“That’s it,” Lydia crooned. “That’s it. Don’t stop.” 

Jim wasn’t aware that he was doing anything. He gripped her hips, because he needed something to hold onto, but it wasn’t the same as holding Spock. She was soft, an extra layer of flesh over her hips while Spock was all hard, precise angles. His fingers sunk into her skin and she sunk into him, surrounded him, but she wasn’t really touching him. What must have been pleasure wrapped around him, thick ropes and thin tendrils pulling tighter and tighter, but he didn’t really recognize it as pleasure. It was just tension, pulling at him until it was difficult to breathe and Lydia’s light body felt twice as large. 

Spock was angry. Whatever he was doing, wherever he was, he must have known what was happening, because the jealousy was gone and now there was just possessive rage. In fact, he had the strong feeling that he should expect one enraged Vulcan to smash into the room at any time, destroying the door and anything else that got in his way. He would have the same look in his eye that Jim saw the night he declared Jim was _his_. Hungry and demanding and dark and dangerous. 

The thought of Spock’s anger sent up a series of defensive flares in the back of his mind, burning bright and hot, illuminating the issue in red and greens. What right did Spock have to be angry and possessive? Jim had spent a little over one hundred and twenty days consumed by thoughts and memories and dreams while Spock turned a cold shoulder to him, shunning the very connection Spock had worked so hard to convince Jim existed. And now he was angry? 

Jim immediately slammed up every defense he could, resisting the invasion of his mind and pushing Spock away with all of his strength. The pain immediately returned, but Jim was prepared for it now, and he didn’t miss a single beat. He flipped Lydia onto her back without pulling out of her body. She squealed with surprised, but her legs and arms immediately went around him, pulling him close. 

_Angry? He’s going to be angry with me even though he won’t even touch me? Even though he’s been dating Uhura for the past four months? He thinks he has any right to be angry at me?_

He drove forward with each question, thrusting hard into Lydia’s willing body. She shouted with appreciation each time, and that spurred Jim to move faster and harder, his angry questions never leaving the back of his mind. The pain didn’t fade, either, but that barely mattered. He had other things on his mind. Like the unshakable sense that Spock was on the way and Jim would _give_ him something to be angry about. Hell, he’d fuck everybody still down in the bar, and then start making his way through the restaurant on next street and the pub on the corner. He’d make sure Spock saw and felt everything. It’s not as though Spock had any claim on him, so what did it matter? 

“Fuck…yes…yes…” Lydia panted, and he felt ten identical stings on his ribs. 

“Harder,” Jim rasped. He wanted her to draw blood. “Harder.” 

She complied, keeping up with him like he wasn’t the only one who had a point to make. Would Spock be able to find him? It seemed like an easy enough task. He wouldn’t be surprised if proximity made the link between them stronger, and really, there had only been one bar in the area where Spock left him. He just had to select the most logical place and…

“Don’t stop…please…need you…please…” 

Jim brought his attention back to her and redoubled his efforts, one hand sliding between their bodies to seek out her engorged clit. One flick of his nail across the sensitive flesh, and she tensed like he had administered a shock. Another had her crying out. On the final hard thrust into her, he caught her clit between his thumb and forefinger, applying just enough pressure to rip a shout from her throat and her body writhed, her walls clenching around him. It should have been enough to draw a similar reaction from him, but as before, he barely felt the pleasure. There was just pressure and pain and anger. 

“How did you like that?” He breathed against her mouth, hoping that she wouldn’t notice that he was still hard. 

“That was amazing.” She smiled softly, her eyes still cloudy and a little dazed. “Who taught you how to do that?” 

“It’s just one of many natural talents.” 

“I see you don’t suffer from false modesty.” 

He slowly eased away from her and settled on his side. She turned her head towards him, but otherwise didn’t move. Her chest was still rising and falling in rapid breaths, her carefully done hair was a complete mess, looking like a golden halo around her face, and her skin was flushed. There was absolutely zero doubt that this woman had just had a hell of an orgasm. Jim would have smirked a little, but the pain seemed to be having an effect on the muscles he needed to smile. 

“I don’t have time for false modesty.” 

“You know, I don’t think I even caught your name.” 

“Jim Kirk.” 

She frowned. “Jim…James?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Was your mother called Winona?” 

“Yes.” Jim pulled away from her slightly, his eyes narrow with suspicion. “How did you know that?” 

“I can’t believe this. Of all the planets in the galaxy, I run into you here.” 

“What are you…” 

The sudden flare of pain kept him from finishing his sentence. Spock was there. He knew it. He braced himself for the Vulcan bashing his way into the room, but when the knock came, it was extremely polite. 

“Who could that be?” 

Jim grabbed her shirt and tossed it towards her. “You better get dressed and head out.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Trust me…you don’t want to stick around here for this.” 

“It’s my room.” 

Jim’s only response was to watch her until she finally swore at him under her breath and pulled her shirt over her head. She shot him daggers before yanking the door open to let herself out and revealing Spock waiting in the doorway.  


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you come all this way just to tell me that you didn’t feel any of that?” Jim asked as Spock shut the door behind him. “Because you didn’t have to bother with that.” 

Spock’s nostrils flared. “No.” 

“Then why are you here? This really isn’t your kind of place, Commander.” Jim was still on the bed, completely naked, his arms crossed over his chest. “You should go back to the base.” 

“Yes, and so should you.” 

“Did you come to fetch me?” 

“Yes. You do not belong here.” 

“No, Spock, that’s not how it works. You don’t tell me where I belong, and you sure don’t get to knock on the door when I’m in the middle of something.” 

Spock’s hands curled at his side, but he didn’t otherwise visibly react. “It was the pain. I know you felt it as well.” 

“Oh, so you are going to admit to feeling something? You know what I felt?” Jim swung his legs off the bed and stood, smiling on the inside as Spock watched his body unfold. He was aware of his own strengths, and Spock might pretend to be completely unaffected, but he wasn’t. “I felt your jealousy. Somebody else was touching the toy you had already discarded, and you didn’t like that one bit. That’s not very logical, Spock.” 

“I didn’t discard…” 

“That’s exactly what you did! I didn’t want to do the second mind meld. Do you remember that? Do you remember how I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea, and you just insisted that it would be for the best? That it would help me understand?” 

“I remember,” Spock said tightly. 

“When you did that, you weren’t just showing me what it felt like to have that bond. You were showing me that you loved me. That night you did everything you could to make me believe it.” 

“I do not know if those feelings were mine,” Spock said for what must have been the millionth time, his voice still low. “You have no idea what it’s like, Captain. Every emotion I experience comes at great cost for me. Do you know what it is like to be punished for loving your own mother? They all sensed that weakness on Vulcan and they made me pay for it in small ways and big ways. I learned how to block those emotions. How to shut them off until they died from lack of attention. And then Q…” 

“So you don’t want me. Christ, Spock, just say it! It’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I heard it. At least we’d both know where we stand. And you wouldn’t have to keep up the ridiculous fiction that Q created the bond between us just so you could avoid the topic.” 

Spock stared at him, and Jim braced himself for the five words. Spock wouldn’t try to soften the blow. He wouldn’t start with ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ He wouldn’t explain that Jim was a great guy, but the spark simply wasn’t there. He wouldn’t even have the courtesy to blame Starfleet and the rules about fraternization. He would just say them plain: _I do not want you._ Which really was for the best. 

“Come on,” Jim encouraged. “If you say it, then we can move on. Hell, you could even figure out a way to break the damned link now that you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist.” 

“I…I cannot say that, Captain.” 

“Why not? It’s the only way we’re going to get a break.” Being rejected wouldn’t actually kill the feelings he harbored for Spock—life had already taught him that lesson about his heart. But it would kill any hope he had, and that would make it much easier to actually function. 

“Because it is simply not true.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not true.” 

“So what the hell are you suggesting? That we continue on like this? Because I don’t know if you noticed or not, but this is hell. We’re barely friends anymore, you apparently can’t even stand the thought of me being with anybody else, and I have to watch every word I say because you’re still dating my chief communications officer. And by the way, how is it fair that you still get to date somebody, but I can’t even have a one-night stand?” 

Spock’s lips thinned. “I have not been intimate with Lieutenant Uhura in the past four months.” 

Jim gaped at him. “You’ve been holding out on that girl for _four_ months? And she’s been okay with that?” 

“She has not voiced any complaint.” 

“Spock…Spock I know you don’t have a lot of experience with human relationships, but this isn’t right. You’re already pretty emotionally distant. If you take away sex, too, you’re not actually _in_ a relationship. You’re just keeping her wiggling on the hook.” 

“I agree that it has become necessary to end my relationship with Uhura, but I have been searching for a way to do so without hurting her.” 

Jim sunk to the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. His boner had finally disappeared, and now he just felt stupid sitting their naked. He needed the ‘fresher, too. 

“You can’t, Spock. If she loves you, you can’t find a logical way to end it without hurting her. That’s what love does. It hurts you. It causes pain and inflicts damage and sometimes it makes you wish you were dead.” 

“It is irrational.” Spock stiffly sat beside him, not quite touching his arm. “Vulcans are wise to purge themselves of that particular emotion.” 

“Yeah. Sometimes I think they’re on to something. But I don’t think I’d do it, if I had the choice.” 

“Even now? Even though you are, in your own words, living in hell?” 

“It’s still a part of who I am.” 

“I do not know how to fix this.” 

“Would it really be so terrible for you to just…accept it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Because the odds…” 

“The odds are you against you falling in love with somebody like me? Logical, Spock, but not something I’m in the mood to hear right now.” 

“I only intended to say that Q could have done anything to us and shaped us in any number of ways. You do not wish to lose your emotions—your ability to love—because it is a part of who you are. I…am at risk of losing a part of who I am.” 

Jim sighed, and realized in a distant way that the carpet was really hideous. Who would choose such an ugly swirl of green and brown? He had a feeling that for the rest of his life, he’d hate both of those colors. He felt like he wanted to hate something. 

“How do we make this pain stop? I can’t be a good captain if it feels like my brain is constantly trying to escape from my skull.” 

“For now, I think all we can do is lower the shields and allow the connection to happen.” 

“Completely demolishing any sense of identity and privacy in the process. Is that really the best choice considering what you just said?” 

“You are right. You cannot continue to function with a crippling headache.” 

“Why now? Any thoughts on what made this happen now?” 

“Yes. You have natural shields, and I have been doing my best to keep you out of my mind. But tonight…I transmitted very strong emotions to you, breaking down your shields. Then you transmitted equally strong, though different, emotions towards me, knocking down what remained.” 

“And everything rushed in,” Jim said softly. “Like water rushes after a dam breaks.” 

“Yes.” 

“Can it be reversed?” 

“Possibly, but we would need help. I cannot do it myself.” 

“Why would something like this exist at all? I can’t imagine anybody else wants somebody else to know every feeling and thought.” 

“It is a bond highly prized on Vulcan.” 

“Where nobody feels anything, supposedly. It doesn’t make sense to have this sort of link if you don’t have anything to share.” 

“Do not view it sentimentally. This sort of connection leads to creating a family unit that cannot be broken. Secure family units lead to a secure society. A society that is secure can focus on pursuits beyond food and defense like philosophy, and science, and the arts.” 

“And logic?” 

“Yes. It is uncomfortable for you because you have not been preparing for it all your life.” 

“It’s obviously pretty damned uncomfortable for you.” 

“On the contrary. The bond itself is sacred. The keystone for the society and culture that possesses everything I admire. Generally, it is created while Vulcan children are still quite young. They are promised to each other in marriages arranged by their parents, and they are raised together, the bond never broken. By the time of the first _Pon Farr_ , they are usually quite ready to complete the marriage ceremony.” 

Jim didn’t really understand what all of that meant, but he was smart enough to grasp the pertinent points. They were stuck with the link, and Spock had been bonded to somebody else since he was a child. Spock didn’t need to explain that the person he was married to was now dead. Did Uhura know about her? He also understood that this was a tradition, an institution, an action, a gesture that he simply had no concept of. Perhaps the pain was so intense because his mind was trying to adjust to something so utterly alien and unnatural to him. 

“Spock, go back to the base.” 

“Captain?” 

“Go back to the base. I need some time…” He stood and reached for his pants.

“Some time for what?” 

“To prepare to have you take up residence in my brain. I’d like to have a few more private minutes before that happens.” 

“Of course. Will you be returning to your quarters tonight?” 

“I don’t know,” Jim answered honestly. His shirt followed his pants, but he still felt strangely naked. “I’ve got some thinking to do. I don’t like to be shut up in one room when I’m trying to work something out.” 

“Very well.” 

Once Spock left the room, Jim realized he couldn’t stand to be in there another second. It was drenched in the scent of sex and perfume, and for once, Jim didn’t like it. He slipped out and took the service stairs down to the street level, hoping to avoid the very annoyed woman who was no doubt waiting for him to vacate her room. She was the kind of girl he wouldn’t mind seeing again, but given the current circumstances, that seemed like a pretty bad idea. 

Of all the bad situations he had been caught in, this was the most galling. Because it wasn’t any of his doing. He hadn’t created the mess and he had no way of getting himself out of it. The only real way to get what he wanted was to convince Spock that the two of them were, well, kismet. A tall order, made worse by the fact that Spock was stubborn and would fight him every inch of the way.


	8. Chapter 8

Once Uhura began crying, she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t sobbing. She hadn’t completely lost control. But a tear fell for each name Admiral Barnett read. His voice never grew weak or wavered, though the long list of names literally filled hours. All of the survivors of the _Narada_ Engagement had gathered on the lawn in front of the Academy. The audience was mostly made up of the Enterprise crew, the crewmembers that had somehow survived Nero’s attack on the fleet of ships until a rescue ship could arrive, a handful of Vulcans who were currently residing on Earth, the members of that graduating class who hadn’t been assigned to a ship that day, and of course, the grieving family members. She was vaguely aware of people sitting and standing, shuffling away or sliding past her to look for a seat. Nobody was obligated to wait and listen to each of the one thousand, six hundred and twenty-eight names, but Uhura fully intended to pay her respects to as many as she could. 

McCoy sat next to her, his face set in a familiar frown. They hadn’t really discussed attending the service together, but hadn’t been surprised that morning when she found him waiting for her outside her quarters. She suspected he was lonely without Captain Kirk around to keep him company, but that was okay. She was lonely, too. The strange thing about Spock’s absence from the ship was that she barely noticed it. The loneliness was at a constant, regardless of where Spock was. She knew that wasn’t a good thing. 

The day itself was lovely. The bridge had been repaired, and it glowed in the morning light. The morning fog had burned away, and the sky and sea were the same shade of blue. The grass had been recently mowed, and the fresh smell of the shorn blades reminded her of the little things she missed when on board the Enterprise. The recycled air was treated but it was never the same as the brisk, salty breeze that drifted in from the Bay. She missed the way grass felt beneath her feet. She missed sunlight on her face—artificial light could never quite make up for that experience. She missed the sound of seagulls, and sea lions barking on the pier, and the distant chime of clocks. 

Uhura absorbed the details of the day around her, but her attention was exclusively focused on the tall man standing behind the lectern. Some of the names she recognized and some she didn’t. She didn’t know which amazed her more. The number of people who had been at the Academy for the same three years she was who she never met, or the number of people whose names left a sting of pain in her chest. So much potential so heartlessly destroyed. Lost forever.

Uhura didn’t recall mourning on the day of the engagement. There simply wasn’t time. Everybody on the Enterprise had to put all personal feeling aside and focus on their jobs. Not one person could slack off, or allow themselves to become distracted. Spock, and then Kirk, had depended on each and every one of them to perform the tasks they had been trained in. That day, everybody had gone above the call of duty and exceeded each requirement. But there had been no time to think about the people who had warped into a crises and met Nero’s blasts instead. 

She didn’t recall mourning the day after, or even the week after. The defense mechanism that allowed her to forget that she ever witnessed the murder of so many of her friends carried her forward, until she thought that all those wounds would be healed. Then she found herself laughing at one of Scotty’s jokes and thinking _Brit would love this_. But Brit had been assigned to the Farragut, and she would never hear that joke. Or tell one of her notorious dirty stories—the ones that were so wild even Jim Kirk would blush at them. That was the first time she had cried. It had lasted for hours, the tears falling like they were being wrung out of her. It had also been the last time, until that beautiful morning, when Admiral Barnett started at the top of the list. 

“Ambassador Spock and Kirk will be here later tonight,” McCoy said under his breath. “Spock will be speaking tomorrow.” 

“Oh?” 

“I received an invitation to join them for dinner. I think they’d be happy to see you, too.” 

Uhura frowned. “I’m not sure I want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because they sort of weird me out a little bit. It’s like too much for my brain to accept.” 

“I know what you mean. That’s why I don’t want to go alone.” 

Uhura almost smiled. “So you just invited me to be your buffer zone?” 

“Of course. If they’re distracted by you—and believe me, they will be—then I’ll be left in peace.” 

“What makes you think they’ll be distracted by me?” 

“Because you distract every man in the room.” 

“Yeah, right. I saw those two in sick bay. They were…” Uhura stopped, still slightly disturbed by the memory. She had stood in the middle of the room, a sleeping human and a sleeping Vulcan on either side of her. On her left, the human and Vulcan in question had actually been spooning, both with a look of undeniable peace. To her right, the human and Vulcan were literally reaching for each other, their fingers locked together even though both were in a sleep so deep they almost looked like they were in a coma. “If you’re inviting me, then I’ll be happy to go.” 

“No, no. I don’t want you to go if it’s going to be too weird for you.” 

She lifted one shoulder. “I’ll adjust. Besides, it might be interesting.” 

“It promises to be that, at least.” 

They lapsed into silence for several minutes while more names sunk into her flesh. Finally, McCoy asked, “How are you holding up?” 

“I don’t know,” Uhura answered honestly. “I think I’ll be okay. But when I think about how senseless this all is…and what Spock must be going through. Leonard?” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you ever feel guilty?” 

He arched his brow. “Guilty? About what? About our friendship?” 

“No! No, I didn’t mean that at all. I meant…surviving. Getting to live while everybody else is just a memory and an empty name.” 

“Oh. Oh, I see. Survivor’s guilt. Sometimes…especially at first…when I realized just how depleted the medical staff was from the hit on deck six. But I was able to recognize the signs and understand where they were coming from.” 

“And that made it better?” 

“Knowing what was happening made it easier to control. Especially since I ended up counseling so many of the crew through that very thing. You could have come and seen me if you were feeling that way.” 

“Well, I’m seeing you now, aren’t I?” 

“This might not be the best place to have the conversation.” 

No, it probably wasn’t. She nodded in agreement, and sat back in her chair, hands resting in her lap. Her face was still wet with tears, and now that she wasn’t focused on Leonard, they were falling fast and silently. She was just wondering why she hadn’t been smart enough to bring more tissue when she felt something press against her hand. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s a handkerchief. For your face.” 

“Thank you. Though I should have brought my own.” 

“You can keep that one.” 

She folded it in half and wiped her cheeks, more than a little surprised that it smelled like the cologne he wore. Just vaguely, like it had acquired the scent after being in his pocket for too long. It was also warm, and much softer than any tissue she could have used. She wanted to thank him again, but she supposed gushing over a handkerchief was a little strange. 

It took the entire day to read off the names, ranks, and commendations for each person lost. Uhura had every intention of staying until the bitter end, but as the sun sank in the sky, a cold wind swept in off the water. She wasn’t dressed for the chill, but she didn’t mention it and tried to suppress the chattering of her teeth. 

“Okay, that’s it,” Leonard finally declared. 

“What?” 

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you shiver anymore.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re freezing.” 

“It’s almost over,” Uhura protested. 

“It’s not. And the last thing I want is for you to catch yourself a cold. Or worse. There’s a lot of people around here. You don’t know what you could have picked up from any of them.” 

“If I do get sick, you’ll be here to heal me,” she pointed out. “I’m not worried.” 

“I’m good, but I can’t cure everything. Come on, Ambassador Spock will be expecting us soon anyway.” 

She didn’t protest when he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She also didn’t pull away from his hand on her elbow. Over the past year, she had become accustomed to the fact that he simply was a touchy person. It was strange at first, because she most certainly wasn’t the type of person who indulged in casual touches and friendly contact. Now she barely noticed it. 

“And you’re sure they won’t mind me turning up without an invitation?” 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” 

Uhura couldn’t help but smile at his solemn declaration. Especially since there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. Despite the reason they were there, Uhura was happy to see it. It was just a small reminder that they were both alive. They had both survived. They were both going to continue their lives, and despite the tragedy behind them, that life should still include a bit of laughter, and sunshine, and freshly mowed grass, and dinner with friends.

She thought this counted as dinner with friends, even though the two men waiting for them were virtual strangers. Uhura hadn’t spent really any time with either of them, but it was always unsettling. Especially when the older Spock smiled. 

The door slid open for them as soon as they arrived, and Spock bowed slightly in greeting to both of them. “Lieutenant Uhura. It’s very pleasing to see you.” 

“I hope this isn’t an inconvenience, Ambassador.” 

“It’s never an inconvenience when a beautiful woman joins us for dinner,” Kirk said smoothly before Spock could respond. “Though you should have called and I would have been sure to have your favorite.” He frowned. “Rigelian Truffles are still your favorite, right?” 

Uhura smiled. “Yeah, actually, they are.” 

“Some things never change. Come, come, have a seat. What’s your poison?” 

Uhura half-expected Spock to mutter something about how it was illogical to call drinks poison, but he didn’t even seem to hear the question. 

“Scotch,” McCoy answered. 

“I had a funny feeling,” Kirk said, producing a full bottle with a flourish. 

_One day, Spock will look like that._ That realization was quickly followed up by the fact that _she’d_ never see him looking like that. Ambassador Spock was one hundred and fifty five years old. Human life expectancy, for the most part, didn’t even come close to touching that. 

A sudden beeping pulled her from her darkening thoughts. She automatically reached for her communicator, but Leonard stopped her with a touch to the arm. “It’s me. Probably Jim calling me about a burning sensation.” As soon as the words left his mouth, pure horror passed over his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

Kirk smiled at him. “Hey, wouldn’t be the first time you received that call, right?” 

“No, not the first.” He ducked out of the apartment, and she heard him say “McCoy here” before the door slid shut. 

“How long are you two going to be on Earth?” Uhura asked, hoping that she didn’t sound as awkward as she felt. 

“We’re scheduled to return to New Vulcan in seven days,” Spock answered, sitting in the chair across from her. “Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Did you say for the entire reading tonight?” 

Uhura shook her head. “When I started shivering, Leonard insisted it was time to go.” 

Spock’s brow climbed up into his hairline as he filled her cup. She could tell by the color and scent that it was a traditional Vulcan blend. She didn’t know if they were already harvesting the plants on the colony planet, or if this was what remained of what Spock had been able to find a year earlier. 

“What would you like with your tea?” 

“The same as you,” Uhura answered absently before frowning. “Wait, I don’t know if that’s actually true.” 

“It probably is,” Spock said, preparing both cups. 

“In your timeline, were we…?” 

“We became friends. At the beginning of the five year mission, I kept to myself and tried to discourage any sort of friendship. But Nyota was persistent.” The smallest of smile touched Spock’s lips. “She heard me practicing my lyre once and decided she wanted to learn how to play it. Once she convinced me to teach her, she learned quite rapidly.” 

“I’ve always wanted to learn to play the lyre.” 

“It is never too late to learn.” 

“But you two were never more than friends?” 

“No. It is impossible to tell how the ripples of one event will spread through the universe. Perhaps Nero’s arrival led to the perfect conditions for the two of you to have a relationship.” 

Uhura opened her mouth to ask another question, but Leonard’s sudden return stilled her words. She couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him so…angry. Or maybe he wasn’t angry. He looked sick with worry. The last time she had seen him like that…

She jumped to her feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“That was Spock. Jim’s gone.”


	9. Chapter 9

No matter how many times Spock retraced his steps, he did not find what he was searching for. His investigation took him back to the Stage Door again and again, but each visit resulted in disappointment. None of the employees could help him, and none of the regular customers remembered seeing a man that fit Captain Kirk’s description. He interrogated as many people as he could before he left and learned nothing; yet, he was drawn to that building. Each time he opened the door he expected to see the man in question sitting at the bar, drinking and flirting. He’d laugh at Spock’s worry and tell him to relax. 

It was a sweet fantasy, but nothing more than that. It did no good to invest time or energy in that fantasy, especially since he knew it was a lie. Exactly one hour and thirty-two seconds after he left Jim the night before, the pain in his skull disappeared. The link had been reopened, and for a brief time, Jim had seemed content. Once Spock became accustomed to a set of emotions and thoughts that did not belong to him, he found it…pleasant. Like a missing part of him had returned and he was complete once more. 

For a time, Spock had done nothing more than sit in his room and meditate, cataloguing and integrating each emotion Jim sent through the link. The flow of emotion was so strong, it was almost as if nothing separated them at all. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine that Jim was in the same room with him. He even felt like they were touching. It was peaceful, and he welcomed it, even though he had been fighting that very thing every second of every day for four months. 

That sense of peace disappeared suddenly, as though it had never existed at all. The link wasn’t gone. He could still feel Jim, but he wasn’t transmitting anything to Spock. There was only silence. That was when Spock began his search. 

The Stage Door had been the most logical starting point, so he returned there, prepared to follow any leads that could take Spock to Jim. But there were no leads to follow. He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, bracing himself for what he might see when he forced the door open. The worst he expected to witness was Jim asleep in the arms of that woman. Spock had no way of knowing there was something far more horrible than that. Not until he stepped in the room and realized it was empty. Empty and all signs of Jim’s former occupancy completely gone. The bed had been made and the air had been recycled, removing the heavy smell of sex. 

Spock couldn’t believe that nobody had seen anything. Especially since the two men tending the bar had both been working when Spock had made his first appearance in the establishment. When he could find no witnesses, he considered contacting the authorities. New Chicago was a huge city, that extended into the sky and even down into the ground. He couldn’t even consider searching the city by himself. Not that Spock had any guarantee Jim was still in New Chicago. The chances that he was already out of the city were one in five hundred. The chances that he was off-planet were far slimmer, as it was next to impossible to smuggle unauthorized passengers either on or off Earth, and the security requirements had only tightened since Nero’s attack. 

He could be anywhere and Spock had no information except that Jim was still alive. 

He considered contacting the authorities. Since he was only one man with limited resources in a strange environment, it wasn’t logical to attempt a large-scale search on his own. But if he contacted either the police or Starfleet, the media would descend on New Chicago. Jim’s face was already being broadcast heavily since it was the anniversary of the _Narada_ Engagement, and in between remembering the lives that were lost, they featured the man who had saved Earth from Vulcan’s fate. 

Humans were panicky and violent when startled, and learning that James Kirk had gone missing one year to the day after he had saved the planet would startle everybody quite badly. They wouldn’t consider all the possibilities and the most logical suspects. Spock would not be surprised if people started casting premature blame on the Romulans—even though there had been no reports of Neutral Zone infraction—or Romulan sympathizers. Such suspicions and blame could cause an inter-planetary incident and be of absolutely no use in the search for Jim. 

Furthermore, Spock did not believe that Jim’s sudden disappearance was the result of a carefully orchestrated plan to kidnap one of the most celebrated and famous figures in Starfleet. Out of respect for the Grayson family’s privacy, their destination had been classified, and only a few key personnel knew where they were going to be and when. Of course, Spock had no proof that it was a kidnapping at all. Jim could have been unconscious in a sewer somewhere. He could have been in a hospital or in jail or any number of places. 

There were too many variables, but Spock knew two things for certain. First, Jim was not dead. The link hadn’t been severed. It was quiet, and no matter what Spock sent to Jim, he never received a response, but the link was still quite present. Second, Jim was not trying to hide from him. If he had left with the intention of distancing himself from Spock, he would have put his shields up and the pain would have returned. The only sound conclusion was that he was unconscious. But if he were only unconscious, he could wake at any time. And when he did, he would only need to find a way to communication his location to Spock, and then Spock would go to him. 

So he waited and he searched, certain that any moment the Captain would wake up and automatically reach for Spock. Twelve hours after Jim first disappeared, Spock was forced to admit that he couldn’t work alone. He still didn’t want to contact the authorities, and so he contacted Dr. McCoy. He had expected the other man to insult him in some silly human way and then argue the logic of calling the police. He had not expected McCoy to declare that help was on the way in the form of James T. Kirk. 

He beamed from San Francisco to New Chicago within ten minutes of Spock’s discussion with McCoy. Spock didn’t know the cover story he used, but it must have been a reasonable one, because he wasn’t delayed by officials in the transport room. Spock was waiting for him in the corridor, unprepared for how relieved he’d be to see the familiar face. There hadn’t been any noticeable changes since Spock’s first meeting with him the year before. His mouth was set in a serious line, and his eyes were hard. Everything about the way he looked, the way he walked, and even the way he greeted Spock broadcasted that he was in charge there. 

“So he’s managed to get himself lost or kidnapped?” Kirk sat at the desk and indicated Spock should join him. “Tell me what’s happening.” 

Spock obeyed, sitting across from him and beginning with the events of the dinner the night before. He didn’t leave any details out, and when he mentioned what Amanda’s cousins had said about him, Kirk’s eyes were flints. Spock realized that if he had been there for the dinner, he would have reacted in the same way as his younger counterpart. But that was his only visible reaction as Spock’s detailed narrative continued. He left nothing out, even though his own sense of modesty and privacy demanded that he be more circumspect. He needed Kirk’s help. Keeping information from him would be unwise. 

“And you’ve been back to the Stage Door?” He asked. 

“Three times.” 

“You never saw the girl again?” 

“No.” 

“And nobody could tell you anything about her?” 

“They behaved as though they had never seen a woman matching her description though that clearly is not the case.” 

“Probably because they didn’t know why you were asking.” 

“I gave them no reason to lie to me.” 

“They probably don’t get too many Vulcans around here. They might not have felt comfortable talking to you. Especially if she’s somebody they know. Come on.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Back to the Stage Door.” 

“But as I’ve explained, there’s no useful information to be found there.” 

“Then indulge an old man.” 

“Do you believe that the young woman is involved in this?”

“I don’t know. But other than you, she was the last known person to see me…him…” Kirk frowned. “This is weird. Well, either way, it can’t hurt to talk to her. And if she’s gone missing, too…” He paused and considered Spock thoughtfully. “Is there a chance that they went missing together?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Have you considered that they might have…eloped?” 

Spock tilted his head slightly. “Eloped? You mean decided to have a private wedding ceremony?” 

“Yes.” 

“That is not possible.” 

“Really? Not possible at all? You’re saying there’s a zero chance?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, but she was still the last person to see him besides you. Let’s go.” 

Spock fell into step behind Kirk, slightly surprised by the fact that he still moved like a young man. “I’m grateful that you agreed to transport here with so little notice.” 

“I was the most logical choice. Spock and the rest of your crew have other obligations for the next forty-eight hours. Besides, haven’t you ever heard that God helps those who help themselves?” 

“God? I was not aware that you are a theist.” 

“I’m not, but I still like that expression. And it’s particularly apt given the current circumstances.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” 

“You know, it’s possible that he got himself drunk and holed up somewhere.” 

Spock frowned. “Yes, that is possible. Three nights ago, he drank heavily with Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Scott and informed me that he could no longer feel the link. Perhaps intoxication has some sort of dampening effect on the bond.” 

“In which case, he’s probably sleeping it off.” 

“It is still dangerous for him to be _sleeping it off_ in a strange location, is it not?” 

“Yes. After we go to the bar, I want to meet your family.” 

Spock blinked. “My family, Captain?” 

“Yes. Is the service being held today?” 

“It begins at seven.” 

“Good. That should give us enough time to talk to a few people without crashing.” 

“Crashing?” 

“Showing up where we’re not wanted.” 

“In that case, we would be crashing regardless of the hour of our arrival. Why do you want to speak to them?” 

“Generally people don’t like it when you punch them in the face. Especially in their own home. This Matthew person might have been interested in exacting a little revenge. Or paying somebody to do it for him.” 

“But it was a minor altercation.”

“When emotions and tempers are running that high, it’s never minor. Trust me.” 

“In this case, I have no choice,” Spock said, as they stepped into the corridor. “But if Matthew is responsible for the Captain’s disappearance, he will not merely tell you when you ask.” 

“No, he probably won’t,” Kirk agreed mildly. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t still be helpful to us. I know how to read people.” 

Spock’s stomach clenched with mild apprehension. He was confident that Kirk could help him retrieve Jim quickly and quietly, without attracting the attention of the authorities, the media, or anybody else who might want to take the opportunity to cause mischief. But he had hoped that Kirk’s plan would involve a real strategy and not just a series of interviews of people who either didn’t want to talk to them or had already indicated they had no information to give. 

“So, have the two of you worked things out yet?” Kirk asked, his voice reflecting none of the anxiety crawling through Spock’s chest. 

“Sir?” 

“You know…” He gestured at Spock. “You two. Are you still just friends?” 

“I do not understand what that has to do with the current situation.” 

“In other words, mind my own business? What’s he doing here anyway instead of being with the rest of the crew?” 

“It was his decision to accompany me to the memorial service.” 

“So the complete non-answer is something you perfected at a young age? That’s fine. You already told me what I needed to know.” 

Spock frowned. “How did I do that, Sir?” 

“I’ve known you too long, Mister. You don’t actually know the answer to my first question, but instead of admitting that you’re unsure, you simply sidestep the entire issue. As for the answer to my second question, it might have been his decision but you found a way to prompt him into making it.” 

“If you are suggesting I manipulated him into joining me--.” 

“Oh, I would never suggest such a thing, Spock.” 

The sun had gone down by then and the streets were lined with artificial lights and people. None of them paid any attention to the two of them. They were probably accustomed to the sight of people hurrying in and out of the base. Spock expected Kirk to request a transport, but he didn’t even bring the issue up. He let Spock walk about a foot ahead of him, and each time Spock glanced over his shoulder, he saw Kirk attentively studying the area, as if collecting each minor detail to tuck away later. 

“New Chicago didn’t really change much over the years,” he muttered to himself. 

“Are you familiar with the city?” 

“Yes. I was stationed here after the five year mission. It was a pretty bittersweet time for me. I was _rewarded_ for my accomplishments with a promotion right off the ship and Spock chose to leave for Vulcan.” 

Spock didn’t know if the older man expected any sort of response from him. He was mildly curious about why his counterpart had elected to return to Vulcan after his choice to leave the planet and join Starfleet, but he wasn’t certain that the answer was any of his business. 

“Our destination is one point two zero one kilometers to the east,” Spock said, when Kirk came to a stop at an intersection. 

Kirk turned to the right without hesitation, his attention still fluttering from building to building, person to person. Spock braced himself for more questions, but Kirk now seemed lost in his own thoughts. That was just as well. It gave Spock a chance to turn inward and test the link. Briefly, he began sliding his walls back into place, and was gratified rather than irritated when the pain returned. He instantly dropped his walls, having no intention of causing Jim any undue discomfort. That sort of unexpected, overwhelming headache could cause serious problems or even disrupt an attempted escape. If indeed he was somewhere he needed to escape from. 

Kirk’s earlier question floated through his mind. _Is there a chance they went missing together?_ Jim had been quite angry with him when they parted company, and humans often acted out in strangely illogical ways when they were angry. Could he have reasoned that he might as well run away with somebody who didn’t push him away? Could he have chosen a willing consort over the bond he had with Spock simply because that woman wouldn’t hurt him by denying him? 

_No. No, that’s not what happened. You would have felt it, or he would have tried to block you. That simply isn’t plausible given the information you have at this time._

That was true, but just because it was implausible at the moment didn’t mean it was impossible. 

_Perhaps, but would Captain Kirk leave suddenly without contacting his first officer, his chief medical officer, or his direct commander?_

No, he would not. Spock had no question that Jim would not simply abandon his responsibilities. He was being held by something or somebody. 

“Is this it?” Kirk asked, coming to a stop at the now familiar Grayson family home. 

“Yes.” 

“Good god. You could house the entire crew of the Enterprise here.” 

“That is an exaggeration.” 

“Sure, but not much of one.” 

He bounded up the flight of twelve steps like he was a young man, giving Spock no choice but to hurry and follow him. He pressed the button for entry, and Spock felt something unfamiliar slither through him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be there—he absolutely didn’t—but nobody else wanted him there. Spock held his hands behind his back and forced himself to disengage from those emotions. He didn’t need them and they would be a hindrance in the given situation. 

The door swung open, and Spock was surprised to see that Paul was there to greet them himself.

“Spock. And who is this?” 

“I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He took Paul’s hand and gave it a firm shake while putting his other hand on Paul’s shoulder. “I know that this is a difficult time for your family, and I came to offer you my condolences.” 

“If you’re the captain of the Enterprise, who was the young man who made such a scene last night?” 

“My son,” Kirk answered without missing a beat. “And you know how kids can be these days. All loud music and no respect for anybody. I insisted on apologizing in person when I heard about that awful display. On behalf of the Kirk family, I am very sorry for any pain or suffering he inflicted. Especially at a time like this.” 

Paul Grayson softened while Spock bristled. He knew why Kirk felt the need to make the speech, but if Jim were there, he wouldn’t have apologized for any of it. In fact, he would probably proclaim proudly that he would do it again. _But I’m not sorry for hitting that asshole. I gave him the chance to apologize for what he said._ Since Jim had been so willing to stand by his action—as startling as it had been at the time—it seemed wrong for Kirk to be apologizing for him now. What might have been the most irrational impulse of Spock’s existence seized him, and he almost stepped forward to announce that Jim was not sorry and the apology was officially retracted. _I was defending you._

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time, but would you like to come in? Perhaps for a drink?” 

“Gladly. Spock?” 

“Yes, thank you.” He was surprised by how crisp the words sounded. 

This time, when Paul led them through the house, he didn’t take them to the dining room. He opened a huge set of double-doors to reveal a richly decorated study, full of antique books and other priceless heirlooms. Spock knew immediately that Amanda had loved this room. He could see her in the corner, curled around a thick book while another stack of volumes waited for her attention. The smell of leather and brittle pages would have clung to her skin for hours after she finally emerged for supper or to retire to bed. 

Something stronger than grief or anger washed through him, making him weak. He immediately reached down the link for Jim, desperate for any sense of him. Spock did not know how or why, but he knew that if Jim were there, things would have been better. He could not stand to lose Jim, too. Spock knew the emotional stress of such a loss would cripple him. 

“Spock? Are you all right?” 

“I am well,” Spock answered, each word clipped. He wasn’t well. Why were they standing there in that house and not out looking for Jim? How could Jim not be aware of the pain and worry and grief and guilt? How could he survive the battering of emotions? He could not. Spock knew he would not. 

Despite the invitation to stay for the rest of the evening, Kirk made their excuses after only thirty minutes and gently guided Spock out of the house. As soon as the door closed, Kirk rounded on him, his eyes narrow with concern. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing at all. I am well.” 

“Haven’t you figured out yet that you can’t bluff me? I know all your tells.” 

“Tells?” 

“It’s poker term. It means I know that when your eye twitches like it just did, you’re not only not well, but you’re actually engaging in the very human practice of lying.” 

“Did you find the information that you were searching for?” 

“Sure. Whatever else the Grayson family has done, they’re innocent of this.” 

“You are quite certain?” 

“Yes. Take me to that bar. If nothing else, I could use a drink.” 

“I do not think you should have apologized on Jim’s behalf.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he is not sorry.” 

Kirk spread his hands. “It was diplomacy, Spock. Sometimes, you have to say things you don’t really mean. That’s the way the game is played.” 

“It’s disrespectful to speak on behalf of somebody when you don’t have that authority.” 

“It was necessary. And if that’s the worst thing I have to do before the night’s over, we’ll count ourselves lucky. Come on.” 

Spock gave the necessary directions to the Stage Door, knowing that Kirk was right, and still not liking it. Worse, he knew he was in the wrong for letting anything about the decision affect him negatively. 

“Spock!” 

Spock stopped short, surprised by the alarm in Kirk’s voice. “Yes, sir?” 

“Did Jim see this?” 

At first, he didn’t understand what the older man was pointing at. He had stopped outside of a theater, a mere foot from the huge poster advertising the current show and the acting troupe. The theater was on the way to the Stage Door, but Spock had the feeling that the Captain had not been in the mood to read random posters. Even if it was the only retro-style poster in an area dominated by real time simulations of the performances.

“I do not believe so, sir. Why?” 

“Is this the woman you saw him with?” He tapped on the glass covering the poster. 

“Yes.” 

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.” 

“Who is she?” 

Kirk took a pair of old-fashioned glasses from his jacket pocket and slid them on, squinting at the fine print at the bottom. “Lydia Karidian.” 

“I do not recognize the name, sir.” 

Kirk sighed heavily. “Yes, and neither would he.”


	10. Chapter 10

As Jim woke up, he was greeted by the roundest, bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. They were fringed by gold lashes, and hair the same shade hung in a fringe over her brows. Physically, Jim placed her age at twelve or thirteen, but those blue eyes seemed much older. Like she had seen everything twice and nothing impressed her anymore. It made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t look away from her for long. Possibly because she was staring at him intently. 

“Hi,” Jim finally croaked. 

“Hello.” 

The sound of her voice surprised him. It was girlish and sweet. 

“I’m Jim. What’s your name?” 

“Lenore.” 

“Lenore? That’s a pretty name.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He tried to lift his head, but it felt like there were bricks right at the back of his skull, holding him in place. “Where are we, Lenore?” 

“Mama said you shouldn’t move. You’ll be sick if you do.” 

“Thanks for the warning. Where is your mama?” 

“At the theater with Father,” she said matter-of-factly, as though she couldn’t believe he didn’t know that. 

“Oh, what are they seeing?” Not that Jim cared, but as long as they were both talking, he knew he wasn’t unconscious. What knocked him out? Had he been drugged? Or knocked over the head? Or stunned with a phaser? 

“No, they’re not there to see a play. They’re performing. _Hamlet._ ” 

Did that mean they were still near the theater section? If so, that meant he was still fairly close to the base. And to Spock. He could be out of here and on his way back to where he belonged in minutes. He would just need to call Spock and… 

“Where’s my communicator?” 

“Mama locked it away.” 

“Could you get it for me?” 

She shook her head with a solemn frown. “No, I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Mama said you weren’t to have it. And if you broke free and tried to find it, that I should shoot you.” She took a step back, allowing Jim his first glance of the phaser in her hand. He had the feeling that it wasn’t set to stun. 

“Okay. Okay, nobody’s going to try to get the communicator. I suppose that means that you can’t untie me, either?” 

“No. Mama said…” 

“Yeah, I get it. So, Lenore, is it just you and me in here?” 

She nodded. “For now. Mama said that tonight they’ll come straight home after the performance. She told me that you were a special surprise.” 

“Oh. Wonderful.” Jim didn’t need to be told that it was never a good thing to be anybody’s special surprise, especially when you were being held against your will and guarded by a young girl. One who didn’t look at all perturbed to be holding a very deadly weapon. “What’s your mama’s name?” 

“Lydia.” 

Jim shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. The woman who picked him up at the bar and rode him like she wanted to break him was married with a daughter? He had fucked married women before, but this was different. For one thing, they never kidnapped him afterwards and brought him home for the family. 

“What about your father?” 

“Anton. He’s a very celebrated actor, you know.” 

“I bet he is.” 

Jim slowly flexed the fingers of his left hand, hoping his body would block her line of sight. He could move his fingers just fine, but when he tried to lift his hand, he realized that a force field was keeping his arms in place. A slight twitch of his legs confirmed the same was true of his ankles. He relaxed again, knowing that he would only cause himself more damage if he tried to break free of his invisible chains. 

“Did your mama say anything about eating?” 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat in two days.” 

“That’s not any good. Father is the same way. Sometimes, Mama can’t make him eat for days at a time. That’s usually when they fight.” 

“So…I’m somebody’s special surprise? Is that what you said?” 

She nodded again. “That’s what Mama said.” 

“Whose? Do you know?” 

“Father’s.” 

Things were rapidly going from bad to worse. Did that mean that Anton Karidian didn’t yet know that his wife had kidnapped somebody out of a bar, tied him to a bed, and set their daughter as guard? Or was he perfectly aware of the situation and just didn’t have time to take advantage of it—of him—before curtain call? Jim’s stomach churned. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so completely freaked out. In hindsight, even Spock going all pon farr on him hadn’t even been this terrifying. 

“Lenore…what about that food?” 

“I can get you something. But you have to promise me not to move.” 

Was she aware of the force fields holding him to the bed? Her eyes and voice were as serious as ever, which pointed to the fact that she didn’t know he _couldn’t_ move. On the other hand, she seemed remarkably calm about having a much larger, strange, naked…

Wait. Naked? 

“Where are my clothes?” 

“Mother said they needed to be recycled because they were filthy.” 

“What about new clothes?” 

“Are you cold?” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m freezing.” The room must have been eighty or eighty-five degrees, but Jim was willing to grasp at any straw. 

“Here.” She picked up a quilt from a nearby chair and spread it over him. “Better?” 

Better than nothing. “Yes, thanks.” 

“I’ll get your food now.” 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck._ He would have felt better if he had shouted the words, but he didn’t want Lenore to return too soon. Not that he could do much in his unguarded state. 

The room seemed to be a concrete box. It reminded him of the cellars some of the older houses had in Iowa. The ceiling and walls were cement, and he guessed the floor probably was, too. There were two windows, and judging from the way the light was slanting through one of them, they faced north and south. Or…he narrowed his eyes, and looked again. That wasn’t sunlight but the artificial light that lit up the area after dusk. Which meant it could be any time after nine, and the windows could be facing any direction. 

The walls were decorated in a number of posters. As he studied them, he realized each one featured Lydia’s beautiful, hateful face. There was a man with her—Anton no doubt—but Jim couldn’t quite pick out the details of his face. Sometimes he had been drawn with a mask over his eyes. Or photographed in the shadows. It was all very moody and artistic, but not very helpful. Most of the posters also had short sentences celebrating the power and talent of the Karidian Troupe. All of them advertised Shakespeare’s work. 

Besides the bed itself and the chair, Jim didn’t see any other pieces of furniture in the narrow room. He couldn’t tell if that room always functioned as a sleeping area, or if they had just shoved a bed in there for his benefit. Either way, there were no communicators, no computers, no monitors, and no handle on the inside of the heavy door. 

It was a prison cell. Whether by design or not, he was being held in a dungeon. Even if he could break through a force field, he would be trapped by the reinforced door and the tiny windows. Naked. Without his communicator or his weapon. He felt his body react to each realization—his stomach roiled more violently, his chest tightened, and his heart hammered in his ears. He wasn’t claustrophobic. People who were claustrophobic didn’t do well on starships. Except…

Except he had been very claustrophobic once. 

That memory clawed its ways to the surface with long, jagged nails. Jim tried to beat it back down, but it was as fast and slippery as the snakes on Omicron Alpha. Each time he tried to push it down, it broke free, gaining strength the longer it was exposed to the light. 

_Don’t panic. Just don’t panic. That won’t help you get out of this situation. Think about what you do have._

What did he have? He had a guard who was barely more than a child. Normally, that would be quite the advantage, but normally a twelve-year-old girl wouldn’t be armed with a phaser. He had the names of his captors, but unless he planned to beg them individually for mercy, that wasn’t going to make a big difference. He had a first officer who was probably searching for him that very second. 

He had a telepathic bond with said first officer. 

“Bingo,” Jim muttered. If it worked, and if he got out of there in one piece, there would be no more talk of breaking the bond. Ever. 

_Spock? Spock, are you there? Can you hear me? Please. Please say you can hear me. Please._

Nothing but silence answered his pleas. But that didn’t discourage him. He barely knew anything about how the bond worked between them. Maybe Spock could only hear him if they were standing close to each other. Maybe it would be better to send feelings. Maybe Spock would feel an itching in his brain and realize that, if nothing else, Jim was alive. It was his one shot at getting out, and he wasn’t going to give up on it. 

_Spock…I really need you here. I don’t know where I am and I can’t give you any clues, but right now there’s only girl guarding me. Just one girl. And I mean she’s an actual girl. You could break me out easy as pie. You just have to find me, and I know you can do that. I know you can._

Still no answer. 

Strong emotions. That was the key. That was what had brought Spock running right to his bedroom the last time. He knew the link between them was open. It had to have been because he wasn’t feeling that familiar pain like blades of glass slicing through his brain. Instead of trying to hold off the fear, he let it flow through him. 

The heavy door swung open silently. It was automated. Probably because it would have been far too much for a girl Lenore’s side to open and close it by herself. Hell, it would have been too much for most adults. 

“Jim, I hope you like sandwiches.” 

“I love them. They’re my favorite food.” 

She smiled, clearly pleased by his declaration, and set the tray on the edge of the bed. She dragged the chair over so she could sit comfortably near his head and picked up a wedge of bread. Jim couldn’t tell what, exactly, the sandwiches were made out of, but he decided he didn’t really care. He’d need to keep his strength up. 

“Open wide.” He obediently parted his lips and let her place the food against his tongue. Her smile grew as he took the first bite. “I was going to bring you soup but I thought that this might be better.” 

That was probably true for some definitions of the word _better_. He was less likely to choke to death on the sandwich, and he didn’t have to fear scalding hot liquid against his lips or sliding down the back of his throat, burning the whole way. However, there was no way that the soup could have _tasted_ worse than the sandwich—which must have been the lowest grade of reconstituted meat. Still, he parted his lips and allowed her to feed him another bite. 

“Are you really the captain of the Enterprise?” 

“Yes,” he answered after he forced himself to swallow. 

“Father wasn’t sure. He said you were much too young to be a captain. He thought you probably stole somebody’s identity badge.” 

“No. That’s definitely me.” 

“He also said that somebody like Jim Kirk wouldn’t have made it six months at Starfleet Academy.” 

Jim’s brows furrowed. “He said that. Those were his exact words?” 

She nodded and took a bite from the same sandwich she had been feeding him. She didn’t seem to mind the horrid taste. “Yeah. He said they would have tossed you out long before graduation.” 

“Your father knows who I am?” 

“Both of my parents do.” 

That didn’t make any sense. He had never seen Lydia before they met at the bar. He was absolutely certain of that. A man didn’t just forget about meeting a woman that beautiful. And Jim had a pretty good memory for faces. Which came in handy when he needed to memorize the names of over four hundred crewmembers. 

“Did they say why they knew me? Or how?” 

Lenore shook her head. “They didn’t know I was listening when they were talking.” 

“Oh? You were being a little spy.” 

“I like to know what’s going on.” 

“Hell, I’d like to know what’s going on.” 

“Are you still hungry?” 

Jim smiled apologetically and hoped she didn’t see his disgust reflected in his eyes. “Actually, my stomach is feeling upset. It must be because of my headache.” 

“You have a headache?” 

“Yeah. Do I have a bump on my head?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure? Come over here and check the top.” 

She obediently inspected the crown of his head, even going so far as to push his hair out of her way. After a few moments she sat back and shook her head. “You don’t have any bumps.” 

“No cuts or blood?” 

“Nope. Everything’s fine.” 

“Hmm. Do you know how long I’ve been here?” 

She tilted her head and looked up to the ceiling, mentally doing the math. The fact that she didn’t just know off the top of her head made his stomach drop. Had he been out of it for that long? What the fuck had she hit him with? 

“I’d say about twenty-four hours. Mama brought you home after the play last night.” 

Jim cast back through his memories, but everything was blank. He remembered talking to Spock, and he remembered realizing that they were both in a very bad situation. He remembered talking about love and hell, and he remembered that Spock had been holding out on Uhura for four months—poor girl—and he remembered feeling very hopeless. He couldn’t even pretend that Spock didn’t want him. Emotionally, he had been an unknown territory, and he had been insecure. Distracted. Did that make him an easy target? Had Lydia just been waiting for him and he walked right into her trap because he hadn’t been paying attention? 

And just who was she? Who was her husband? How could he know them when their names weren’t familiar at all? 

“Wait…your mom brought me here after the performance last night?” 

“Yes.” 

“So…she’s going to be home soon?” 

“Yes, they’ll both be back very soon.” She beamed at him. “They’ll be so happy to know you’re awake.” 

_Spock, come on. Time’s running out. If you show up in the next five minutes, I’ll let you off the hook. I’ll give you whatever you want. Make it the next three minutes, and I’ll let you be the captain. I’ll give you my ship. Just please. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know who these people are or what they want with me. Because I think I might have an idea, Spock. I think I might know, and I don’t want to see them again. I don’t want to see_ him _again._

With each word, his fear and desperation climbed. Like he was talking himself into his terror. But if he was right…God, if he was _right_. Because he knew those blue eyes, and they didn’t belong to Lydia.

“You don’t look well,” Lenore said. 

“I don’t feel well.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Jim almost laughed. “I’m scared. Aren’t you?” 

She looked even more confused by the question. “What are you scared of?” 

“What if you woke up in a strange bed, with a strange person watching you, and if you tried to escape, you’d be shot?” 

“You’re not going to be shot.” 

“What if I tried to escape?” 

“Well, I don’t want to shoot you. Just don’t try to escape, and everything will be fine.” 

Something buzzed, and Lenore scrambled from the bed. Her limbs were gangly, and for a second, she resembled an awkward colt or a puppy scrambling to break free of the sheet. By the time she straightened, she was smiling again, and she smoothed a hand over her hair just before the door slid open. 

“There’s my girl,” a man greeted with an indulgent smile. 

Lenore launched herself into his arms, hugging him with a blissful smile. “How was the show?” 

“It was magnificent. I swear, your mother grows more talented by the day.” 

“You flatter me, Anton.” Lydia drifted in behind him and immediately looked to the bed. “And how’s our guest? Awake, I see.” 

“He is. I gave him a sandwich.” 

“Good girl.” 

Anton set his daughter aside and approached the bed. He loomed above Jim, most of his face in shadows, but his silhouette was clear. Jim didn’t need to see anything else. He _knew_. In that moment, he knew. A silent scream of protest erupted over the bond, loud enough to be heard light-years away.


	11. Chapter 11

Spock doubled over, clutching his head, his mouth open in silent agony. Jim’s voice boomed through his head until it felt like his skull itself was rattling and his teeth vibrating. The pain traveled south, flowing downwards like thick sap until it finally pooled in his abdomen. A thousand tiny pinpricks hit the corners of his eyes and the top of his nose. 

“Spock?” 

“He’s so…” Spock fished for the right word, but for the first time, language failed him. It was so much greater than fear. It was so much greater than pain. “Alone.” 

Kirk put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Respond to him.” 

“Yes.” Spock didn’t know how to access any emotions powerful enough to combat the terror he was absorbing. “I do not know what to do.” 

“He needs to know you’re here. He needs to know that you’re looking for him. He needs to know he’s _not_ alone.” 

Spock lost all the feeling in his limbs, and his suddenly numb legs couldn’t support his weight. They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by people, and Spock couldn’t even sense them. There were only three things in the world that were real to him. The cold cement beneath his outstretched hand, the growing pressure behind his eyes, and Kirk’s fingers clasping his shoulder. 

His sense of self-preservation told him to put his walls up. Put them up and put them up _now_. Defend himself, defend his mind. He knew if he didn’t, the overload could harm him mentally and physically. If it continued for long enough, it could cause permanent damage. The overwhelming emotions would be replaced with a different sort of pain, but now he realized that pain was nothing. It was a tickle. 

“Spock, if you don’t do this, it’ll just get worse. Let him know he’s not alone.” 

The words were spoken with such intensity, such quiet authority, that it didn’t occur to Spock to question him. But he still didn’t know what to do. What did he have? What could he possibly offer? Desperate, casting around for anything that might help, he immediately went to the most painful place he could. The most tender, sensitive spot in his mind. He saw his mother smiling, his mother watching as he opened his birthday gift, his mother gazing at him with soft eyes while he read her favorite passage to her. 

A new memory overlaid that one. A new memory that seemed very old, like Spock had experienced it a lifetime ago. A memory of an impossible event because Jim had never seen his childhood home. A sharp knock on the door that followed the same pattern Jim always drummed out when he was nervous. _I’ve been looking for you._

_I’m not going to take her from you again._

_I’m sorry._

What had Jim given up with that decision? Not just his first officer. Not just his friend. If James T. Kirk was truly his bond mate, truly the other half of himself, truly connected to him in physically, mentally, and even spiritually, then he had been giving up any chance at true happiness. He would have felt that loss every day for the rest of his life. On some level, Jim must have known that. He must have sensed it. Must have sensed the loss as he walked away from Spock. And yet, he had done it. With hardly any question or protest. The sacrifice had been second nature. For Jim, it had been the logical thing to do. 

 

“No…I cannot…I must not…” 

“Spock?” 

“I must not…I _will_ not…” 

Spock straightened and pulled away from Kirk’s hold. He backed away, his legs moving without direction, not stopping until his shoulders hit a brick wall. Kirk followed, his hand still out-stretched. 

“Spock, listen to me…” 

“I cannot…” 

Things were shaking loose. Memories and long hidden emotions crashed around him, falling like forgotten toys from high rafters. _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…_ Faces he couldn’t touch, places that were lost forever, and a deep, authoritative voice that could have belonged to anybody or nobody but Spock knew who it was. 

_You cannot love them. She died knowing you could not love her. Jim will die knowing the same._

He had killed them by failing to save them. 

“No…no…no…” He pressed his palms to the side of his head, trying to keep everything inside, trying to keep everything together. He clawed through the debris and the dust to find something, anything, to focus on. But each time he thought he had something, it spun away from him in the whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t control. “No…no…” 

“Spock. Stop it. Listen to me.” Kirk grabbed Spock’s wrist and yanked it away from his head. Spock pulled away again, pushing the other man aside like he was no more than an annoying gnat buzzing around his ear. 

“I never…I never told my mother that I loved her. So ashamed. So…ashamed.” Spock realized he was crying. He didn’t think the tears only belonged to him. They were Jim’s too and he couldn’t help because he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Jim was going to die. He wouldn’t have been so terrified unless his life was in danger, and instead of helping him, Spock was falling apart. Spock was fully aware of that, but there were too many pieces. Too many broken, sharp edges. 

“Spock! Listen to me.”

Spock pushed Kirk aside again, and a red edge of humiliation colored the world. Everybody was watching him. Everybody could see. 

“Jim…doesn’t know. I couldn’t tell him. If I had just _told_ him. If I had _told_ him, he would have been with me. He would have returned home with me. He would have been safe with me. But I was afraid. I was…” 

More than afraid. Paralyzed. Numb. 

“Spock, goddamnit, listen to me!” Kirk grabbed him by the shoulders again and slammed him backwards into the wall. His skull smacked against the brick, the real physical main momentarily eclipsing the rest of the torment. “Your mother _knew_. She knew you loved her.” 

“You cannot know--.” 

“I know. I knew Amanda quite well. We spent hours talking and she knew. She never questioned your devotion to her.” 

“I never showed it…” 

“You couldn’t fool her any more than you could fool me. I know things have changed in this timeline, but some things _don’t_. Now I need your help.” 

“There’s so much…” Spock gasped for breath, but the act only seemed to make it worse. He gasped again and again, struggling to pull in enough air, but he couldn’t. The desperate gasping triggered his body’s fight or flight reflex and adrenaline dumped into his blood. He felt his heart rate skyrocket, and the very last moorings of his control began to strain. “There’s too much.” 

Another hard shake had his teeth biting though his tongue. Roaring with pain, he backhanded Kirk, sending him spinning into the gathering crowd. 

“Somebody call the police!” 

“Hey, you need help with this guy?” 

“What is he?” 

.  
“What’s going on?” 

Spock barely heard the words. Not over the roar in his head. Jim was still screaming. Spock couldn’t answer him. That took concentration and a broken mind couldn’t focus long enough to form a response. He turned away from the crowd, trying to hide his slick face, still aware enough to know that he didn’t want anybody else to witness this. 

“Spock, I need your help.” Kirk surprised him by grabbing him again, spinning him around in a strong, fluid motion. His open palm connected with Spock’s face, and the sting once again broke through to his fuzzy mind. “I need _your_ help. We’re going to find Jim, but we’re wasting time.” 

“Every time I _looked_ at him, I was so disgusted. That he could make me…” 

Another hard slap to the face. “Spock, that doesn’t matter right now. Apologize to him and he’ll forgive you. But you won’t have the chance unless you concentrate _right now_.” 

“I cannot…” 

Another slap and another. “I _need_ you, Spock. He needs you. Right now. He needs you right now more than he’s ever needed anybody. Think about that.” 

Spock was _trying_ to think about that, but nothing was clear. “I hurt him.” 

“You’re hurting him now, damnit! He needs to know you’re coming. I need your help to find him.” 

The image of his mother faded, replaced by Jim’s quicksilver smile. The one that came out of nowhere and always in the most inappropriate moments. The ones that pulled at the corner of his eyes and always changed the shape of the world around him. The one that Spock needed to see again. He didn’t try to analyze why that particular smile meant so much to him. He didn’t try to evaluate and carefully compartmentalize each emotion, locking it away in a safe place where nobody could see it. The spark created by Jim’s unabashed smile erupted inside of him, and he let it. 

In his first six months at the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco, Spock had spent every morning watching the ocean. The water was always gray and choppy in those hours, terrifyingly cold and deep. Spock had never seen an ocean before traveling to Earth, and the steady ebb and flow, the crashing waves, had been completely alien to him. Some days, a thick fog would form, blanketing the water and rolling over the land as though it intended to consume everything in its path. Spock had never seen anything like that, either, and he watched with utter fascination as it crawled and slithered like a living thing. Reaching out of the ocean towards the land as the earliest multi-cellular organisms reached out of the water towards the sunlight. 

Then the sun would rise behind him, and as the light climbed over the buildings and reached to the sea, the thick fog would turn to nothing more than wisps of air and then disappear entirely. Nothing burned, and yet everything was gone. 

_I am coming, Jim. I promise. Wherever you are being kept, I will find you. Wait for me._

The violent, jagged edges smoothed slightly. Spock redoubled his efforts, sending as many promises, as many reassurances, as he could. The scream faded into what could fairly be described as a whimper. Spock slumped forward, physically weakened while he invested so much of himself into the bond, funneling as much of his strength as he could. Kirk caught him without hesitation, holding him in a firm, honest embrace. Spock should have pulled away, but he didn’t want to. Not quite yet. 

“Spock?” 

“Why is he so frightened?” Spock forced out. 

“What?” 

“Why is he so frightened? He doesn’t experience that sort of fear and yet now it is crippling him.” _Us_. 

“It’s hard to say. Especially since we have no idea where he is.” 

“You recognize the names on that poster and you are determined we find that woman. Since you recognize the names, you must know who they are and what they want with the Captain. So I will repeat myself. Why is he so frightened?” Spock couldn’t focus on the source of his own fears. It was like poking at an open wound. But he could concentrate on the source of Jim’s terror. 

Kirk pulled back, but didn’t release him. Spock didn’t look away from the older man’s face. He knew the answer. He may not have known the specifics, but he knew the answer to Spock’s question. 

“I might be wrong. In this timeline, it’s impossible to really know what happened.” 

“If we are to find him, you need to be honest with me.” 

“He never told you about living on Tarsus IV, did he?” 

“No, he did not.” 

“Then you probably never heard of Kodos the Executioner. He killed…four thousand people on Tarsus IV when I was thirteen. I watched him…select the ones that would live and the ones that would die. I watched him kill innocent men, women, and children based on nothing more than his own personal standards of who was worthy of living. I couldn’t save any of them and neither could your Jim Kirk. Because we were just boys…pets. If it happened the same…he was spared because Kodos had other plans for him.” 

#

 

When Ambassador Spock excused himself to his private quarters, his face drawn and a sickly gray, Uhura knew things were far worse than any of them were willing to admit. McCoy stood as Spock announced his intention to retire, but even he couldn’t bully Spock into an examination “just to make sure everything was all right.” He made his slow way out of the main room, leaving the two of them to sit in heavy silence. 

“We should be in New Chicago,” Uhura finally blurted. 

“Yeah, we should be.” 

She blinked. “You agree with me?” 

“I do. What made you think I wouldn’t?” 

“Because you didn’t insist on leaving with Captain Kirk.” She licked her lips. “This is even worse than four months ago. At least if felt like we were _doing_ something.” 

“We’re technically doing something here,” McCoy pointed out. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Uhura’s gaze drifted to the closed door. Spock was probably meditating. There was only one bedroom door in that particular apartment. One bedroom door, one bedroom, one bed. _They’re from a different timeline, a different life. That doesn’t have any bearing on_ your _life._

Except Uhura couldn’t spend the rest of her life turning a blind eye to what was happening just under her nose. She had always had exceptional scores in school, had always been praised for her intelligence. Not everybody could keep up with somebody like Spock, and yet, she had never felt out of her league. Until he returned from Veridian III and everything shifted beneath her feet. 

“Leonard…can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“After Veridian III, when you conducted the examinations after on Captain Kirk and Spock, did you find anything…unusual?”   
McCoy frowned, and his gazed darted away from her face. “You know I can’t talk about that.” 

“But there was something,” Uhura pressed. 

“Nyota, please. I can’t discuss that. Not with you or anybody else.” 

“Did something happen between them? Or to them?” 

McCoy shifted his weight. “This is the sort of conversation you need to have with Spock. He can answer whatever questions you have a hell of a lot easier than I can.” 

“I thought it was because of his mother. I thought that he was in pain because he was trying to deal with this…this horrible thing that happened to him. But…that wasn’t it. That was just the easiest answer. The one I could stand to think about.” 

“Nyota, I really think this should wait. Please. You’re just under a lot of stress right now. We both are.” 

“You don’t need to give me details. You could just tell me…” 

“I can’t tell you anything,” McCoy said, cutting her off. “And you know that. I’m not…I’m not trying to be difficult. I don’t want to hurt you. I just can’t answer your questions.” 

“I don’t think I can live like this anymore.” Uhura stood, unable to remain seated. Now that she was talking, words were bubbling up, struggling to break free, to find a friendly ear. When she tried to discuss the issue with Jim, it had been almost impossible. She had struggled for each word, unsure of her purpose. But now everything threatened to pour out of her. “I’ve been in this bizarre…limbo, I guess. I never know if I’m coming or going.” 

“Nyota…” 

She looked at him over her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But can I talk to you?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” 

“Ambassador Spock and Kirk act as though they’re two parts of the same whole. You’ve noticed that, right?” 

“I have,” McCoy said slowly. 

“The way they walk, the way they talk, the way they look at each other. It’s completely seamless. I imagine seeing the two of them on the Bridge would be amazing.” 

“That happens when you’ve known and worked with somebody for over thirty years. It would seem stranger if they weren’t like that.” 

“Maybe.” She folded her arms and regarded the doctor. “Except, I’ve seen _our_ Kirk and Spock behave in exactly the same way. They barely speak to each other on the Bridge, but Spock practically predicts each one of the Captain’s orders. I’ve seen him glance over his shoulder with nothing but a quirk of his brow and Spock instantly knows what to do.” 

“They’re both highly trained officers, and they’ve been working together for a year. They’re also friends…” 

“They were. They haven’t been friendly at all since they returned to the ship. There’s a pattern of behavior, and I should have noticed it before.” 

“They haven’t…there hasn’t been anything to notice. Besides Spock would never be unfaithful to you.” 

“I never said he was. But something _is_ going on, and if you know what it is, please tell me. Please. I think I at least deserve to know that much. Don’t you?” 

“I…well, yes, I do. Especially since Spock has been jerking you _and_ Jim around. I’m sick of seeing it but God knows I can’t do anything about it. I’m just…stuck on the sidelines, watching you and Jim…” 

“Me and Jim what? What is going on here? How is he jerking us around?” 

“If I didn’t know Spock better, I’d think he’s been doing this on purpose to inflate his ego. Not that he needs to think any more highly of himself.” 

“Doing what?” Uhura asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer but needing to hear it anyway. “Is something going on between him and Captain Kirk?” 

“If I’m going to tell you what I know, we’ve got to get a few things out of the way first. Now, where did Kirk put that bottle of scotch?” 

“We need to drink?” 

“Yes, and you need to sit down. Whatever I tell you doesn’t leave this room.” 

“Okay.” 

“No, I need you to promise me. When they find Jim and bring him back, I don’t want to be worried that he’s stepping into an ambush.” 

Uhura swallowed around the sudden tightening of her throat. “I promise, Leonard. There’s not going to be an ambush or anything else.” 

McCoy nodded, and poured two stiff drinks. Uhura accepted hers with a small nod of gratitude, but didn’t drink any. She had the feeling she would want to save it until after Leonard finished speaking. 

“Have you ever heard of the term bond mate?” He asked. 

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it, except that the definition tends to differ from culture to culture.” 

“In this case, I’m talking about the Vulcan culture.” 

“Let me guess. I’m not Spock’s bond mate.” 

The words were delivered softly, without energy. Even as she spoke she knew that they were right, but she didn’t feel any anger. There was a strange sense of relief with the acknowledgement. Almost a reassurance. She hadn’t failed somehow. She hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“No, it would appear you’re not. I’ll start at the beginning of what I know.” 

She looked down at the rich, amber liquid, swirling it in the glass. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” 

 


	12. Chapter 12

“You were always so beautiful. I never met anybody else quite like you. You had such strength in your eyes for somebody so fragile.” 

His voice was low, conversational. It drilled into Jim’s brain. He tried to block it with more pleasant thoughts. Drink with Bones and Scotty. The pressure of Spock’s fingertips on his face. The Enterprise thrumming with power as they engaged the warp engines. Walking her corridors, trailing his fingers along the walls, and simply absorbing everything his senses could take in, from the smell of the recycled air to the soft sounds of the crew performing their daily duties. Jim clung to these thoughts, but they weren’t enough. 

The only thing keeping him sane was the steady flow of reassurance from Spock. It never wavered. It never paused. How much mental energy must that take? But it wasn’t just the words he heard in Spock’s soft, earnest voice. There was the warm, breathtaking emotion he had felt that night when he opened himself up to Spock with complete trust. The very same emotion Spock had been denying ever since. It was there and real and Jim never thought he would feel it again. 

“You’re still fragile, aren’t you? I could break you so easily…” His fingers skimmed over Jim’s bare arm as he spoke. It was barely a touch at all, but his stomach curdled, the reconstituted meat sandwich threatening to return. “But there’s not any fun in that. Besides, I don’t consider myself a _cruel_ man.” 

He hadn’t bothered to gag Jim. Presumably because the walls were so think nobody would have heard him screaming. But he refused to make a sound. Even when it seemed like Kodos was expecting some sort of response to his rambling. Jim couldn’t tune him out, but he didn’t have to engage him, either. There had been training for this sort of thing. Intense, realistic simulations of what it would be like to fall into the enemy’s hands. Those simulations had given Jim even more reason to suppress the memories of Tarsus IV—he didn’t want anybody at Starfleet to know he was already damaged. 

“I always thought of myself as more of a scientist.” He paused and tilted his head. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. Well, no matter. It’s possible. But at my age, and after everything I’ve seen, it’s difficult to remember just what has been said to whom.” 

Jim wasn’t surprised. It had the rhythm of a canned speech. One that Kodos had created a lifetime ago and liked so much he couldn’t stand to change a single word. Perhaps, in this case, it had been a bit personalized, but overall, it had a very familiar ring to Jim’s ears. 

“A scientist, you see, always takes the time to observe, catalogue, and at times, experiment. That is all I wish to do. I could tell from the moment I saw you that you had much to teach me.” 

It wasn’t hard for Jim to believe that Kodos was sincere. The man had been willing to kill for his beliefs of perfection. But it wasn’t an honor to be at the top of Kodos’ list of perfect specimens. It wasn’t safe, either. 

There had been so much blood. 

“You’ve only improved with age. Starfleet definitely suits you. This body…” Now he wasn’t just touching Jim’s arms. He flattened both hands against Jim’s chest and dragged his palms down his body. The bed was on an adjustable frame and Kodos had put it in a vertical position before beginning his little speech. “It’s ideal. Flawless. Did you have the scars removed? You must have had surgery.” 

Shortly after they had returned to Earth, his mother had found the most highly recommended specialist and put Jim on the waiting list. Nearly eight months later, the physical scars were gone. The surgeon had called it his best work. Jim had laughed at that, almost hysterically, until one nurse nervously asked if he needed to be sedated. That had only made him laugh harder, and he had never explained the joke. Kodos had once made the off-hand remark that the marks on Jim’s body had been _his_ finest work. 

Jim never understood why Kodos was driven to destroy the very beauty that obsessed him. He had been almost reverent when he made the first shallow cuts on Jim’s flat abdomen with the long, hooked blade. A trained professional could probably untangle the man’s twisted psyche. Jim didn’t really care to. It didn’t matter what drove Kodos because nothing short of death could stop him. 

“Don’t worry. I have too much respect for the artist who fixed your body to destroy his work.” 

The door slid open, and Lydia practically floated into the room. She had a wide, Cheshire cat expression, her eyes glowing with excitement. Almost as though she had caught a fever. “Anton? How are you? Are you enjoying him?” 

“Quite a bit, dear. I still can’t believe that you managed to find him. But I would know this face anywhere.” 

“I’m still thanking my lucky stars that our paths crossed.” She drifted over to him, one claw-like hand reaching out. Jim automatically tried to shrink away from her touch, but there was nowhere to shrink to. He was trapped, subject to any and every whim that might take them. “I should have known that somebody as perfect as this belonged to you.” 

“I had resigned myself to never seeing him again. I’m not going to make the same mistakes this time.” 

Jim closed his eyes. There had been _so much_ blood. A torrent of it. It had been years before Jim realized that all that blood hadn’t belonged to him. Some of it had belonged to Kodos. It had mingled with Jim’s, washing over his cuts and under his skin, flowing in his veins. Every time he had a check-up, a part of him expected Bones to notice that he had been contaminated. _There appears to be something wrong with you, Jim_ McCoy would say. _I need to contact HQ._

“What have you been doing in here? I expected to find both of you in a much less composed state.” 

“I’m not in a hurry,” Kodos said mildly. “There’s a certain pleasure to merely watching.” 

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know about that. When it comes to him, there’s a certain pleasure in touching, too.” 

“You keep talking like that and you might make me jealous,” he said with the same even tone. 

Lydia’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything--.” 

“I know, dear.” Kodos smiled indulgently. “Would you like me to call you in here when I’m done watching?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“The pleasure will be mine.” 

Apparently that was all she was waiting to hear, because she drifted out of the room the same way she had entered it. 

“One of mine…” Kodos smiled. “You know, I always thought of you that way. Even after I knew that I had lost you. You’re always going to be one of mine. Did I ever tell you what I gave your guardian in trade? The price I paid for you?”

Jim kept his gaze straight ahead on a poster of _Hamlet_. His stomach felt heavy and his head light. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out. 

“You know you’re mine, don’t you? You’ve always felt it.” Kodos trailed his fingers down the center of his chest. “You feel me right here. Do you remember when I told you that you could leave my home? Do you remember that night? I even held the door open for you, but you didn’t leave, did you? You stayed, where you were wanted. Where you wanted to be.” 

Where there had been food. All of the remaining food had been stored at the governor’s mansion, to be doled out at Kodos’ will. As long as he had stayed there, he would have a fighting chance to survive another day. As long as he stayed there, he wouldn’t be herded with the rest of the so-called undesirables to the huge shed that had once been used to store the seed. Jim never knew what happened in there, but he had known that he didn’t want to find out. 

He clearly remembered weighing the chances of survival against fleeing and deciding that every day he lived improved his chances of an eventual escape. But he also clearly remembered Kodos dragging him into his den, setting him on his lap—awkwardly because Jim had been tall for his age—and petting him and murmuring to him, repeating over and over again that he knew Jim loved him. _Loved_ him. Murmuring again and again that Jim knew where he belonged and he was such a _good_ boy and had Kodos been right? Had he stayed because he wanted to? 

“I can tell you that I don’t like this newfound reticence. You used to be so vocal. Where did this come from? Is it a result of your Starfleet training? I think I’m going to need to break you of that. Not that I don’t appreciate everything they did for you. But I miss the sound of your beautiful voice. Now…where should we start?” 

_Spock? Please. Please. He knows what to do. He’s done it before and he knows what to do. Please. I can’t do this again. I can’t let him do this again._ He was shouting again. He needed to shout to be heard over the fear and the thundering echo of his heart. 

_Jim, I am coming. I promise you that. I’ll be there._

_But where are you?_

_I am searching and nothing will stop me from finding you._

_I’m so scared._

He would never say the words out loud, and he would have never admitted that to another living soul, but Spock could already feel the fear winding through him. He already knew the terror, sticky and hot as tar pulling at him. And soon, Spock would be aware of the pain. 

_No. Do not stay there with him._

_I don’t know how to leave._

_Come to me. Follow the link._

That was dangerous. Jim didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. Instinctually. If he left his body nothing but a shell, how would he ever find his way back? 

_I will not let any harm come to you, Jim. I’ll keep you safe._

An escape. But what if he left and his body died as a result? What if he stayed and he died anyway? Would it be cowardly to flee? Would it be cowardly to take the chance he had refused to take as a child? 

_Jim, please let me keep you safe. Please. He can’t break you if you follow the link. I can protect you. Please trust me._

He trusted Spock with his life. If he stayed, he would be helpless. And there had been so much blood. Flowing in rivers down his thighs. Flowing in rivers to the hungry ground. And it hadn’t all been his. It hadn’t all been his. It had been hot and sticky and it had been caught in his flesh. It hadn’t all been _his_. He couldn’t live that again. 

Jim closed his eyes and imagined a golden link. It turned into a rope. He gripped it with both hands and he followed it. 

#

“I am no longer receiving anything from Jim,” Spock announced. 

“What do you mean? Is he…dead?” Kirk asked. 

“No. It is like before. The link is still present, but it is silent. He may be unconscious.” 

Kirk frowned. “I guess that isn’t the worst news, considering, but it’s really not what I wanted to hear, either.” 

It wasn’t what Spock wanted to report. He had been in constant communication with Jim, diverting as much of his energy as possible to comforting the other man. He kept up a constant narrative of where they were and what they were doing, and also monitored what he could of Jim’s thoughts to look for any clues on his whereabouts. Now without the possibility of response, he felt like Jim had disappeared all over again. 

“We’re here,” Kirk announced. 

Spock gazed up at the tall building. It wasn’t distinguishable from all the buildings surrounding it. Tiny windows lined it from top to bottom, and it had the appearance of a towering colony. It made Spock think of ants scurrying, or Aurian droning bees—creatures that lived and died in hives that could reach three hundred meters in height. This type of building was common in Terran cities. They were more than hotels, but not quite permanent residences, designed to provide a home for the off-worlders who had business that could keep them on Earth for weeks or even months. 

There were four hundred and thirty-two such buildings in New Chicago alone. That number jumped to two thousand eight hundred and seventy-one when the bordering cities were included in the count. They were the most likely place for a traveling troupe of actors, but impossible to search without at least a firm lead. A lead that Kirk was able to turn up when Spock felt certain they would find nobody willing to tell them the information they needed. 

Kirk had gone directly to the theater itself and charmed an address from the stage manager. Spock had remained out of sight, not wishing to distract her from Captain Kirk’s efforts. But he had heard Kirk explain that he was a close friend of Anton Karidian’s, and he wasn’t going to have a chance to see his old friend perform while he was planet-side, but perhaps she could provide the address so he could offer his congratulations to the troupe for the accolades they were receiving? The stage manager had resisted at first, no doubt hesitant to offer what she deemed private information. But Kirk had persisted, smiling, occasionally laughing, and speaking what sounded like nonsense. Why was he taking the time to talk about her hair when Jim’s life was at risk? 

When he was finished, though, he had an exact address and the young woman’s phone number. 

“It’s nice to know I’ve still got it,” he had announced with obvious satisfaction. 

Spock did not ask for clarification of what _it_ was. The only important piece of information was where they could find Anton Karidian and his wife Lydia. 

They had a room on the twenty-fourth floor, and Kirk spoke all the way to the top, explaining how they were going to get into the room and find Jim. Spock listened to him, absorbing the information and silently begging Jim to wake up. If they were actually close to finding the Captain, the link would grow stronger with the proximity. But that would only work if Jim was actually receiving from Spock and transmitting his own thoughts. 

“It’s best if we don’t kill them.” 

Spock agreed with the logic of that. He certainly did not believe that violence was ever a reasonable response. But if anybody stood between him and Jim, he would remove the obstacle using whatever means necessary. A nerve-pinch would suffice, but Spock was prepared to use more severe methods. 

When they reached apartment 2431, Kirk put a hand up to stop Spock from pushing the button to request entrance. 

“Let me do it.” 

Spock inclined his head and took a half-step away, clasping his hands behind his back. Kirk pressed the button several times, but was greeted by silence each time. His cheeks reddened as his frustration increased, and Spock opened his mouth to suggest they return later when Kirk started pounding on the door. 

“Sir, I do not think that will invite the desired results.” 

“It might invite them to open the damned door, which is the desired result.” 

“What is going on out here?” 

They both turned to study the man who asked the question. He was older than Kirk, but not by very much. He held a large glass of what appeared to be Saurian brandy, and his face was creased with clear irritation. 

“These walls aren’t soundproof, you know.” 

Kirk turned and smiled. “Oh, excuse us. We didn’t mean to disturb you, but we’re searching for an old associate of mine and told we could find him here.” 

The man studied Kirk suspiciously. “Maybe. What’s his name?” 

“Anton Karidian.” 

“Oh, the actor?” He shrugged. “Yeah, he’s around sometimes.” 

“Ah, so he’s probably not home right now.” He nodded at the glass in the man’s hand. “Is that Saurian brandy?” 

“Yes.” 

“What year?” 

“It’s twenty years old.” 

Kirk’s face lit up. “An excellent age. I’m a bit of a connoisseur, you see.” 

“Are you?” The man looked interested in them for the first time. “Most people think all Saurian brandy is the same.” 

“Oh, I know. I hate that. People have no idea of the nuances they’re missing out on. Twenty years is just about the right amount of time to start bringing out the different levels of flavor.” 

“That’s what I believe, though I know people who argue that fifteen years is sufficient.” 

Kirk frowned. “What? Really? They don’t taste a difference between those five years?” 

“No. Can you believe it?” He shifted the glass from his right to his left hand and extended it in greeting. “Trace Banton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“James Kirk. The pleasure is mine.” 

“Would you and your friend like to come in? I have a thirty-year old bottle I’ve been saving. It’s from the Sauter River district, and I find that brandy distilled there tends to have a slightly sweeter taste.” 

Kirk nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think it’s because they use the water from the river itself. I’ve been there. It’s a truly extraordinary place, worth the visit even if you don’t really care for the brandy.” 

Trace’s eyes widened. “You’ve been there? I keep wanting to go but it’s so difficult to make the proper arrangements.” 

“I was invited by the Saurian leader, Thepitranian’dreap Has’brunijn as a personal guest. He was able to arrange a tour of all the distilleries.” 

Spock shifted his weight impatiently. “Captain? I believe that time is, as you would say, of the essence.” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to hold you up if you’re in a hurry,” Trace said.

“No. If you’ll let me talk to my colleague for a moment…” He took Spock by the elbow and pulled him aside. “I know time is of the essence, but this is important.” 

“I fail to see how anything about the last exchange could be deemed as important.” 

“I want to stay here and keep an eye on the apartment. I want you to return to the theater and watch for them. If you see either Lydia or Kodos, don’t try to engage with them. Just contact me and keep an eye on them.” 

“What if they do not return to the theater?” 

“Then we’ll know we need to broaden our search. But you said that Jim made it sound like he was in a basement somewhere. I doubt he’s in this building. We need them to lead us to Jim. They’re not going to attract attention to themselves by cancelling a showed-out performance. It’ll be business as usual for them. If they don’t show up here, I’ll meet you at the theater.” 

Spock did not want to separate. He especially did not want to passively wait for their arrival. But it was the most reasonable course of action. Waiting would waste so much time, but they were at risk of wasting even more if they continued to search New Chicago blindly. Separating would also increase their chances of covering more ground. 

“Very well, sir.” 

“Check in every twenty minutes, even if there hasn’t been any change.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“It’s strange. You make me feel like I’m thirty years younger.” 

Spock arched his brow, but before he could question what that had to do with anything, Kirk was turning back to his new friend. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Spock was anxious to meet Anton and Lydia, but he’s on a tight schedule.” 

“So he won’t be joining us?” 

“No, but he’s…” Kirk leaned in and lowered his voice. “He’s not really a fan. He prefers Vulcan brandy. Have you ever had it?” 

“No.” 

“That’s probably for the best. You don’t want to know what alcohol tastes like when it’s distilled by a race of beings that don’t drink.” Kirk shook his head dramatically. “It’s like listening to a performance by tone deaf musicians.” 

“Sir, I must protest. Vulcan brandy is…” 

Kirk waved him off. “Go on, Spock. There’s no defending Vulcan brandy to anybody who has their sense of taste intact.” 

Spock nodded. “Very well.” He turned and walked back to the lift. 

“Is he always so…cold?” Trace asked. 

“Not at all. But he’s got a lot on his mind today. Now…I was just about to tell you about the time I toured the Sauter River…” 

He was still talking when the lift doors closed, blocking the sound of his voice. Spock slumped against the wall, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and fear. For the short ride, he allowed himself to consider what it might be like to lose Jim Kirk. It was easier to stay focused with the elder Kirk at his side, making quick decisions and snapping orders. But now there was nothing but silence. Pressing in on him from all sides. 

_Jim, I will find you. I will._

He didn’t want to calculate the odds against him. For once, knowledge did not seem at all comforting. It wasn’t logical to ignore the facts, but perhaps it was time for Spock to learn a lesson from his captain and his friend. Jim had faced long odds before, but he never lost confidence in himself or in Spock. That confidence allowed him to survive when other men would perish. As long as Jim was alive, he would find a way to beat the odds.


	13. Chapter 13

“I didn’t expect your mind to look like the Enterprise,” Jim said as he stepped onto the quiet bridge. Only Spock sat at his station. All the other chairs were empty, though Jim could tell that the ship was still running. He crossed to his chair, pleased to see it even though he knew it wasn’t real. Once he got back to his actual ship, he was never going to leave he again. 

“I thought this would be most pleasing to you.” 

“I do find it pleasing. I guess you can change everything to whatever you want it to be?” 

“Yes. Would you like me to demonstrate?” 

“No.” Jim settled in his chair and ran his fingers over the buttons on his console. A flick of a switch, and he could have the warp engines fired up. “I believe you. I think I just want to sit here and enjoy my ship. I can’t believe it’s already been a year.” 

“Why not?” 

“It feels like it’s been less time than that. Doesn’t it?” 

“It is possible that you perceive the time as being less than a year.” 

“And not at all possible that you perceive it other than an exact measurement of time?” 

“It has been three hundred fifty-five days and seven hours since you were commissioned as captain of the Enterprise.” 

“I knew I could count on you to not forget. You know, a part of me never expected to make it this long. I figured I would fuck it up, or Starfleet would come to their senses and take it back.” 

“You’re an extremely capable, intelligent man and a strong captain. I am sure that you’re in no danger of losing the ship.” 

“Maybe,” Jim muttered. He crossed one leg over the other and watched the view screen. He saw nothing except the distant, tiny stars. Sometimes it still surprised him that even in space, stars looked the same as they did when he watched them as a boy in Iowa. Cold. Far. Out of reach. “That could change now.” 

“Why would it change now? It would be quite illogical for Starfleet to remove you as captain at this point.” 

“Would it be? They don’t want people like to me to be in charge of starships. Especially the flagship. The only reason they didn’t stop me before was because they didn’t know…” 

“Didn’t know what, Captain?” 

“They didn’t know about Tarsus IV. Nobody did except my mother, and I knew she would never say a word. But now…now everybody will know.” 

“Why would that knowledge change anything? How old were you when you lived on Tarsus IV?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“A mere child by Earth standards.” 

“Yes, but old enough to know…he gave me a chance to leave. When I was thirteen. He opened the door and gave me a chance to leave. But I didn’t because…” 

“Captain, there is no need to discuss this if you don’t wish to.” 

“Walk with me, Spock.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

As comforting as the Bridge was, Jim needed to move. Spock stood, waiting until Jim walked by before falling into step behind him. The ship hummed and beeped as the computers took the proper readings, scanned the surrounding space, and navigated on auto-pilot. Jim would prefer to have his full complement of crew, but he knew everything would be fine while he strolled through the decks. Spock wouldn’t let anything happen to the ship. 

“I never discussed it with anybody. My mom was on an assigned tour of the colony when Kodos approached Joe—my step-dad. It wasn’t a big secret that we didn’t get along. The police had been called more than once because our fights were so loud. The more he tried to make me submit, the more I resisted.” 

“I am not surprised.” 

Jim almost smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would be. I think Joe was ready to get rid of me. At least until my mom got back, then she could deal with me. Kodos offered to hire me to work at the mansion. That's what Joe said, anyway. I don’t know what the deal was. I don’t know if…but Joe packed up my bag and sent me on my way. He didn’t have to fight very hard to get me to leave. I mean, we practically lived in a shack. And then he was telling me I could live in the biggest house on Tarsus IV and I would have to see him for days, maybe weeks? It seemed like a good deal to me.” 

“Had you met Kodos before that point?” 

“No. Not many people had. He had been granted the colony, not elected to office. He kept to himself in the house he had built, and his deputies dealt with the day to day running of the colony. I never knew what he was doing up there, and I never gave it much thought. Then I found out. I wish I hadn’t.” 

They were walking in circles. Jim didn’t mind. It felt good to move his legs, though there was an ache in his thigh, and it was only getting worse with each step. He rubbed the muscle absently, wondering what could be causing it. If it persisted, he would have to tell Bones. Which could lead to any sort of undesirable outcome, including required bed rest. 

“Did I tell you he gave me the chance to leave?” 

“You mentioned it,” Spock said. 

“The fungus had already been discovered at that point, but it was before people started to run low on rations. I knew what was coming, though. I had heard Kodos and his deputies discussing the situation, and I _knew_ that it would just be a matter of time until people would go hungry. I didn’t want to starve, Spock.” 

“I can’t imagine anybody would embrace that possibility. No doubt Kodos was aware that you knew of the dire situation and would choose the best option for survival.” Spock surprised him by touching his shoulder. “He knew you could not choose to leave. It was not a real offer.” 

“I don’t know. He was so pleased when I said I’d stay. He took me to his private quarters and he…raped me. He raped me, Spock. I never said that out loud before.” 

“You never told the authorities?” 

“No. There was nobody tell on Tarsus IV. He _was_ the only authority. He handpicked the most loyal of his followers to the most prominent positions. And once we returned to Earth, what good would it have been to mention it? He was dead and I didn’t want to relive it. I was stuck with him for six terran months. And I always felt that…that I must have wanted it…I must have deserved it or I would have _left_ when I had the chance.” 

“But it wasn’t a real choice,” Spock repeated. His hand on Jim’s shoulder tightened. “He was clearly a master of manipulation, but it is not difficult to manipulate a boy of your age and experience.” 

“I was a smart kid.” 

“You should never been in that position. It was your step-father’s duty to see to your safety and protect you from people who would exploit you.” 

“I’m not really on my ship, am I?” 

“No.” 

“I’m still there, aren’t I? In that room, and he has me again.” 

“Yes.” Spock released his shoulder but only to take his hand. “Come with me. We can go where he can’t reach you.” 

Jim nodded, following his first officer off the Enterprise. 

#

Spock stood watch in the shadows without moving, his back pressed against the wall. A sign on the rear entrance reminded any wayward attendees that the door was meant for authorized personnel only and loitering would not be tolerated. Two men dressed in street clothes passed by the back door every ten minutes and fifteen seconds, looking all the more conspicuous for their lack of security uniform. They managed to keep the door clear, but they didn’t notice Spock, though they passed less than two feet in front of him. 

In defiance of Kirk’s explicit instructions, he had his communicator off. He did not want to risk attracting any attention to himself. He would only have one chance, and he was not going to lose said chance because Kirk chose that moment to contact him. He was prepared to do what must be done. 

There had been a handful of tickets still available when he reached the box office. He selected the one closest to the stage, but the location of the seat didn’t matter. He would have recognized Lydia anywhere, from any distance, at any angle. Even with her costume and make-up, he recognized her. He had only seen her for a moment, but that moment was burned into his memory. When he thought of her, he saw each detail of her face and her body. When he saw her acting in the role of Ophelia, he knew her. 

Without looking away from the stage, he slowly stood and made his way up the aisle, his legs and back stiff with anger. It had been difficult to walk _away_ from her. Especially since nobody in the theater had the strength or the speed to stop him from attacking her on the stage. The man on the stage playing the ghost of Hamlet’s father matched the image on the play’s poster. Anton Karidian, formerly Kodos. Was Jim safe while those two performed? Or was he being tormented by somebody else? Or had they completely misjudged and Jim’s meeting with Lydia Karidian and subsequent disappearance had been unfortunate coincidences? 

There was only way to find out. Spock regretted that he had to act without being certain, but he did not see any reasonable alternative. He did not have the time. 

The link between them was fading. Spock could feel it, and he did everything in his power to strengthen it, but it wasn’t just the link. _Jim_ was fading. There were too many possibilities to know for sure why he was gradually losing more and more of that connection. Jim could have been in a coma. He could have been physically weakened and slipping closer to death. He could be retreating deeper and deeper into his own mind in an effort to avoid physical or mental pain. 

Regardless of the reason, Spock was in danger of losing Jim completely. Spock did not believe the ends justified the means, but in this instance, he was willing to make an exception. A large one. He would have to live with that decision and come to terms with it on his own time. He should not even be considering what he was about to do, but an interrogation would take too long. He was losing Jim with every passing second. 

Spock had left early in the play, certain that if Kodos did have Jim captive somewhere that he would leave at the soonest opportunity. Given that he played Hamlet’s father rather than the titular character, Spock knew he needed to be prepared. But he was still mildly taken aback when the door opened as the intermission began and an older man slipped into the alley still dressed in his costume. 

Nobody was with him, and the two men who acted as security were not scheduled to pass by for another eight point three minutes. Spock knew this was the opportunity he was waiting for. He waited until Kodos walked by him and then silently stepped from the shadows. The other man gave absolutely no sign of hearing him. He didn’t even have the chance to turn around when Spock reached for him. One moment he was walking, and the next he was in a boneless heap on the ground. 

He didn’t seem like a dangerous man. He didn’t seem like much of anything except an old, unconscious man. Kirk had filled Spock in on the history of Tarsus IV, including the horrible, pointless choice he made to slaughter half of the colonists. But Kirk hadn’t elaborated on what he meant when he said that Kodos kept Jim as a pet. He had deferred, insisting he would tell Spock if it became necessary, but otherwise, Jim should have the right to tell Spock himself. He wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell Spock anything, however, if Spock didn’t figure out where he was. 

Spock pushed Kodos onto his back and looked around, making sure nobody had happened into the alley while he wasn’t paying attention. They were still alone. 

Unsure of what to expect, he put his fingers on the older man’s face and initiated the meld. 

Spock’s defenses and energy were low because of all the work it took to maintain the link with Jim, but not so low that he was in any real danger. He just needed to keep his emotions suppressed. They were his greatest weakness in a meld—especially a meld that held a high likelihood of revealing violent imagery. If he allowed himself to be affected by what he saw, he could be placing Jim’s life in even greater danger. 

Mentally and emotionally shielded, he stretched his mind into Kodos’s, searching for any signs of Jim Kirk. 

Jim wasn’t hard to find. All Spock had to do was skim the surface of Kodos’s mind. Clearly he had been in a hurry to return to where he held Jim captive. Each image of the Captain was soaked in blood and a choking, bitter lust. Spock couldn’t fully understand the range of emotions he experienced as he sifted through Kodos’ mind searching for the one important piece of information. Some of the emotions belonged to Spock—anger, rage, disgust—but the ones he found most perplexing came from Kodos. They were dark and sharp with rusty edges. Even the one that could be called joy was stained with blood and hatred and hunger. 

He was so hungry. Spock thought Kodos didn’t even know what he was hungry for. What he so desperately craved. He was just a predator, constantly on the move, constantly searching for the thing that could fill the huge hollow hole in front of him. Spock saw that, too. It was an abyss, and nothing could ever fill it. Each drop of blood Kodos fed it only widened the gap. Before too long, it would grow so large that there would be nothing left except blackness. 

Jim was on the edge of that blackness. Spock couldn’t tell if he was seeing a memory or a fantasy. If it was the former, then there was a good chance that the man Spock was so desperate to find was already completely out of Spock’s reach. Gone for good. Jim’s body was broken, bent at strange angles, painted in vivid crimson. His face was untouched, his once vibrant eyes lifeless, unseeing. 

_Where is he? Where is he?_

A building. He could walk there. Spock dug a little deeper and discovered numbers. There were two sets. One would get him into the building itself. One would get him into the room. 

Spock broke contact and gasped for breath. There was a pain in his throat and behind his eye. He reached for the bond with Jim, desperate for any hint of life. Any sign that the ghastly image was just that—an image and not a reality. But no matter how much he grasped for that reassurance, there was nothing. His only comfort was in the fact that the link existed at all.

He straightened and reached for his communicator. As soon as he turned it on, Kirk’s voice burst from the speaker. 

“Where have you been? Why did you turn your communicator off?” 

“I needed to be assured that it would be silent. I am at the theater.” 

“Great, I’m on my way. They never returned to their apartment.” 

“No, they are both here. I’ve ascertained Jim’s location and I can retrieve him myself. You should be here when Kodos wakes up. I do not want to risk him escaping.” 

“Tell me where he is and I’ll go get Jim.” 

“No. I’m going to put Kodos in a place where he won’t be discovered, but you need to get here soon. Spock out.” 

Would it be logical to let Kirk perform the rescue himself? Perhaps. He was not as young or strong as Spock, but nobody would be standing guard. It would also be wise not to leave Kodos unattended. But Spock did not want to wait a single unnecessary second to see Jim again. He needed to know. He needed to be sure. And if Jim woke up, then Spock would be the first thing he saw. And he would know that Spock had been telling him the truth—that every comforting word of reassurance had been a solemn vow. 

He tucked his communicator in his belt, and his fingers brushed against his phaser. If he used it, then Kodos would have no chance of escaping. No chance of ever hurting Jim again. He would finally meet the end he deserved thirteen years earlier. History considered Kodos a dead man, burnt to a crisp in the battle between his loyalists and the relief forces that had arrived from Earth. Nobody would know, and nobody would ever question Spock on this decision. Was it anything besides exactly what Kodos deserved? 

Spock’s finger lingered on the weapon for another half-second, then he lowered his hand. If he did that, he would receive a modicum of satisfaction, but ultimately, he would be no better than Kodos himself. Arbitrarily deciding who would live and who would die based on his own criteria. He deserved to stand trial. The four thousand men, women, and children who lost their lives deserved justice, not revenge. Spock lifted Kodos easily and carried him behind one of the building’s generators, making sure no part of him was visible from the alley. 

Once finished, he sprinted from the narrow alley. He ran as fast as he could, relying on his innate sense of direction to get him through the strange city. He had never been to the address before, but he had no choice but to find it on the first attempt. The life of his t’hy’la depended on it.


	14. Chapter 14

Uhura was drifting into an uneasy sleep when a loud knock yanked her awake. She fumbled for the light and reached for her robe, her tear-swollen eyes struggling to adjust out of the darkness. She knew she looked a complete mess, and she didn’t bother to glance at the mirror as she hurried to the door—she didn’t think anything would be able to help at that point. 

The door slid open, revealing McCoy. She hadn’t been expecting anybody else, but she was still surprised to see him. Especially since he was dressed with his bag over his shoulder. “Spock called.” 

“Did they find Jim? How bad is it?” 

“I’m leaving right now.” 

“Then I’m going with you.” 

“I just came to tell you I was going.” 

Uhura shook her head. “I’m going with you. You might need help.” 

“I think there might be potential for too much…conflict.” 

“Leonard…he’s my friend, too. I can’t just stay here.” 

He nodded. “I’ll meet you in transporter room B.” 

“Give me five minutes.” 

Uhura flew through her room, dressing quickly and dragging a brush through her hair. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t want to see either Spock or Jim so soon. Especially since the tears had only just dried on her cheeks. But she didn’t have that luxury now, and Leonard had explained everything he knew, she realized she would _never_ have the luxury of nursing a broken heart. Not unless she requested a transfer off the Enterprise, and she would never do that. She had never wanted anything as much as she had wanted to serve on that ship, and now that she had been a bridge officer for a year, she knew that no other ship would do. 

It didn’t take the full five minutes to get ready. She ran to transporter room B, arriving two minutes behind Leonard and earning a small smile from him—one that was barely a smile at all. Now that she was more alert, she could see the genuine fear in his eyes. Whatever was waiting for them wasn’t good. But at least Jim was still alive. He must have been, because Leonard was in a hurry and even he couldn’t do anything to help a dead man. 

_Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. Please. Please. Please._ Uhura didn’t know who she was praying to, but the urgent words were still looping through her mind when the pad energized. 

The older Kirk was waiting for them in the transporter room. Every other time she had seen the older man, he had been smiling. At the least, his eyes had been dancing with some secret humor. His heavy frown did more to frighten her than Leonard’s sudden knocking on her door. 

“Spock is on his way,” McCoy reported. “He should be here by two hundred hours. Probably sooner.” 

“Good.” He nodded at Uhura. “Lieutenant.”

“Captain. What’s going on? Is Jim--?” 

“He’s…he’s been through quite an ordeal. Follow me.” 

That wasn’t really an answer to her question, and her stomach twisted. After Leonard had told her what Jim had told him, she had cast her mind over the previous four months, searching for any difference in his behavior. There had been an undeniable tension between him and Spock, but he hadn’t behaved any differently towards her. She even replayed the conversation that led to him accompanying Spock to Chicago, sensitive to any hint that he had been secretly laughing at her. But she was still sure that he had been just as unsure about Spock. They had been on equal footing, whatever that was worth. 

Leonard took the lead, entering the room first and hurrying to the side of Jim’s bed. Spock stood on the opposite side, his lips thin and his brows drawn together. Her first impulse was to go to him, but she hung back, standing beside Kirk at the door while Leonard began his examination with a battery of questions. 

“What were they using to hold him down?” 

“A force field.” 

“Was he unconscious when you found him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Were there any signs of what they used on him.” 

“Yes. I brought what I could with me. A taser gun, some sort of branding device, and a water pick. I believe Kodos was trying to avoid breaking the skin or causing permanent physical scars.” 

“He still managed to cause quite a bit of damage,” Leonard muttered. “Was there any evidence of drugs? Any hypos?” 

“Negative. I found zero evidence that he had been drugged. But I did not have time to conduct a thorough investigation of the room.” 

“I can’t find a single medical reason for him to be out like this. Spock…Jim told me everything. Can you feel anything? Any sign that he’s still in there?” 

Uhura’s chest constricted at Spock’s soft, “No. Not at this time.” 

“I need to get the rest of the medical staff in here. Spock, Nyota, Kirk, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to wait outside.” 

None of them moved. Spock actually looked alarmed at Leonard’s announcement, and the fingers that had been resting on Jim’s arm curled possessively. “I think I can be helpful if I stay…” 

“No. I do not want anybody in here unless they’re a member of the base medical staff. Understood?” 

Uhura found her voice. “Spock…he’s right. He needs room to work.” 

Spock looked up and she caught her breath. His eyes were completely unguarded. Everything was right there for the world to see. Either he didn’t have the strength to hide it, or it simply hadn’t occurred to him that he needed to. She swallowed around the sudden ball of tears in her throat. She hated to see him looking so…lost. Without breaking eye contact, Uhura closed the distance between them and gently took his arm. She expected some resistance from him, but he allowed her to lead him out of the room and into the cooler corridor. 

“It’ll be okay,” she said, though she didn’t necessarily believe it and Spock wouldn’t have been comforted by those words anyway. “Leonard will know what to do.” 

“Nyota, we need to talk about--.” 

“No, not right now. I know…well I know most of it. We’ll talk about all that later. It’s not important right now.” 

“How do you know what I wish to speak to you about?” 

She gently touched the side of his face. “It doesn’t matter, Spock. Where are you staying? You should change your clothes.” 

“My clothes?” 

“There’s…there’s a little bit of blood.” 

There was more than a little bit, and Uhura didn’t know for sure who it belonged to, but she knew Spock wouldn’t want to walk around with that sort of stain on his pants. 

“State room 4-B.” 

Uhura had never visited that Starfleet base before, but they all had the same basic layout. She didn’t need any further instructions, and once again Spock didn’t resist her. As they walked, she realized that he wasn’t quite with her. He followed her because there was no good reason not to follow her, but his body was running on autopilot. His mind was in sickbay. Or maybe even further away than that. 

Spock punched in the security code for his room at her prompting and followed her inside. For a moment, she wondered if she would have to strip him down herself, but he excused himself to the privacy of the sleeping area. Unsure of what to do—of what he needed from her—she busied herself in the small kitchen, preparing tea and a small salad for him. He would probably insist he didn’t want to eat, but she saw the lines of exhaustion around his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. If nothing else, he would need to eat to keep his energy up. 

“I was not expecting you to accompany Dr. McCoy,” Spock said, once he returned, clad in an identical, but clean, uniform. 

“When he told me that you found Captain Kirk, he couldn’t stop me. I was worried about both of you. Come here. Sit down.” 

“You prepared food?” 

“To keep your energy up,” she said promptly. “And because I needed to do something to keep busy. I made some tea, too.” 

“Thank you, Nyota. Perhaps you are right about… ‘keeping my energy up’.” 

“Of course, I’m right. And Leonard would agree with me.” 

Spock sipped from his tea, but she could tell he was just going through the motions to please her. Maybe out of misplaced sense of guilt. She sipped from her own unwanted tea with a sigh. Was she just making things worse by trying to help? 

“I was too late.” 

Uhura looked up sharply, surprised by the pained admission. “You got there as soon as you could. You couldn’t have done anything else.” 

“I should have found him sooner.” The cup slapped against his saucer, a bit of the warm liquid spilling over the side. “If I had been with him, this would not have happened.” 

“Spock, you can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known--.” 

“He only want to hear one thing from me. If I could have told him what he wanted to hear, he would have left the bar and returned here with me. He would not have been vulnerable to an attack.” 

“Spock, I don’t know exactly what happened or what is going on between the two of you, but Captain Kirk is a grown, highly trained, intelligent man. You had no reason to believe he was ever in any danger, especially in a city like New Chicago.” 

“I know what Kodos did to Jim. I know what he _wanted_ to do.” 

“What he didn’t get the chance to do,” Uhura reminded him softly. “Because you were there. You stopped him. Spock…I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now. Leonard…well, Jim told him about what happened on Veridian III, and I convinced Leonard to tell me. I don’t really know what it all means, but I don’t really care right now, either. I want you to be well. It might help if you told me what was on your mind. We were always able to talk to each other before.” 

“I did everything I could to keep Jim at a distance. I did not want him to be trapped in a commitment that he did not truly want. Q might have manipulated me, but I was the one who convinced Jim to allow me to meld with him again. It was that decision which cemented the bond between us, and I did not explain it clearly to him. And now I fear I will have what I claimed I wanted.” 

Uhura took a deep breath. The question weighed on her tongue, but she hesitated for a moment, unsure if she wanted to know the answer. Her heart was sore, and everything felt tender. The answer would probably cut her open. But there was also a sense of inevitability. If they were bond mates, she couldn’t have done anything to stop it, to change the course of events. 

“Do you love him?” 

“Love is not necessary for this sort of bond to form.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for that. But you haven’t actually answered my question. Do you love him?” 

“I…I believe I do. But I may have already lost him.” 

“Do you feel…do you still feel him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you haven’t lost him,” she said evenly. “And you won’t. He’s in there somewhere if you can feel him. Which means that he can wake up.” 

“I do not know if…” 

“He’s still there,” Uhura said with finality. “That’s all that matters. After Leonard does everything he can, we’ll start looking for other answers, and we won’t stop until we find one. We all need him. We’re not going to give up on him.” 

“We need to have a longer discussion. I should explain…” 

“Yes, we do. But it can wait. Let’s have dinner, then we’ll check in with Leonard, and then we’ll figure out where to go from there.” 

Spock inclined his head. It wasn’t the greatest plan in the world, but Uhura knew he would feel better once the plan was in place. He took a small sip from his tea and lifted his fork to delicately pick at his salad. 

#

“Where are we?” 

“You tell me.” 

Jim smiled. “It looks like we’re in one of the engineering decks. Scotty will have our heads if he catches us wandering around down here.” 

“I do not think he will.” 

“Even if he came looking for us, I doubt he’d find us in here,” Jim said, looking down a long, narrow corridor. 

All of the paths through the deck were narrow, and small robots were often used for the repairs and maintenance required in the area. Everything was automated, and except for the occasional inspection to ensure that the computers were all up and running, there was very little reason for anybody to even go down there. 

Jim had only had one walking tour through the deck—something he had insisted on after Scotty tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary—but he was still quite familiar with the various nooks and crannies from the hours he had spent studying the ships schematics. A captain needed to know his ship as well as he knew his own body. Jim felt strongly that he should be prepared to take over any position from any crewmember in a critical moment with lives on the line. The learning process was ongoing. He dedicated two hours to it daily, on top of all his other duties and responsibilities, and it might take a lifetime before he was as proficient as he wanted to be. 

“Why did you bring us down here anyway?” Jim asked. 

“I did not. You did.” 

“But it’s your mind, right? We could have gone anywhere.” 

“Does this not please you?” 

Jim closed his eyes and concentrated on the way the floor vibrated beneath his feet. The ship was moving. He didn’t know where. Away from Earth? Had they finally been given a real mission? Was he done proving himself? He had tried not to be too annoyed by the way Starfleet jerked him around. He knew giving a ship to a cadet his age was basically unheard of. He knew that Starfleet was still trying to recover from the horrific loss of lives suffered in the battle against Nero. But he also knew that he had earned his ship. He knew what he was doing and what he could accomplish of Starfleet would just back off a little bit. 

“It pleases me. I guess there really isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.” 

“What about your home?” 

“This is my home.” 

“I meant Iowa.” 

Jim grimaced. “No, I wouldn’t want to go back there. I _hated_ it. I was miserable there.” 

“I thought you were miserable because of your stepfather?” 

“Yes, that was certainly a big part of it. Especially after Sam left.” 

“Then it is not logical to hate all of Iowa when you actually only hate one person in Riverside.” 

“Why aren’t you telling me it’s not logical to hate anybody at all? Hate is nothing more than a destructive emotion, after all.” 

“True, but in this case, I do not think you would listen to me. You also have good reason to have ill feelings towards the man who caused you so much harm.” 

“I wanted to ask the other Kirk about our father. I wanted to know about the sort of man he was. I wanted to have some…memories of him even if they weren’t technically mine. Sometimes, I feel like everything George Kirk ever loved, ever cherished, was destroyed, beginning with his life and culminating with me.” 

“You were not destroyed. You’re still alive. You became the captain of the Enterprise. You are admired among your peers who could not have hoped to accomplish even half of what you have been able to do.” 

“But I’m not the person he would have wanted me to be. I can avoid thinking about it…I’m not saying that I obsess over this. But now I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Because of the trauma you are currently suffering.” 

Jim frowned. “What trauma? I’m fine. We’re just…taking a tour of the ship.” 

“Has the pain stopped?” 

“I..I don’t know. I think so.” 

“I am relieved to hear that. It was possible that we wouldn’t find an escape from the torment.” 

“What torment? Was something happening to me?” 

“You have forgotten?” 

Jim rubbed his forehead, trying to massage away a phantom pain. Something wasn’t quite right about their conversation. Something was off, but what could it be? They were just inspecting the ship. Something Jim always liked to do after they had been docked for more than a day or two. They had been talking about Iowa—why had they been talking about Iowa? Had Jim mentioned visiting there? That didn’t make sense because nothing could compel Jim to return to that place. It was bad enough that he had to take a short trip to New Chicago. 

“Spock, where are we?” 

“Engineering deck two.” 

“But…we’re on the Enterprise, right?” 

“Correct. This is engineering deck two of the Enterprise.” 

“I know. But were we in Chicago?” 

“Yes. We were there for a short time. Perhaps we still are.” 

“But you said we’re on the Enterprise.” 

“Yes, that is true. That is the place you chose. You keep leading us further and further into the Enterprise, knowing that it is unlikely for anybody to follow.” 

“Who would follow?” 

Spock stepped forward and very gently touched the side of Jim’s face. Jim sighed, leaning into the kiss. It had been so long since he had enjoyed this sort of intimacy. He didn’t even need to indulge in his very human desire to kiss with his mouth. He only needed what Spock was willing to give him. 

“Do not forget, Jim.” Spock’s fingers continued exploring his face. 

“Forget what?” 

“This is only in your mind.” 

Jim’s eyes flew open. “Don’t say that.” 

“It is the truth.” 

“I know, but…everything is…so confused. I’m not sure what’s really happening anymore. Should I try to leave? I keep forgetting…” 

“Not yet. Not until we know for sure that the danger is gone. It is safer here. But it’s not real.” 

“How will we know when the danger’s gone?” 

“There won’t be any more pain.” 

Jim shook his head sadly. “Then I might be here forever.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Physically, he’ll recover. His injuries were minimal, due to the devices Kodos had used, and if he were awake, I’d only confine him to bed for twenty-four hours.” McCoy paused to look at Spock. “Chances are that things would have much worse if you hadn’t arrived when you did. Your timing is commendable.” 

Spock broke away from the doctor’s gaze, returning his attention to Jim’s sleeping form. “What of his mind?” 

“Yeah, if he’s going to make a full recovery physically, why isn’t he awake?” Uhura asked. 

“I don’t know. Physically, there’s not an explanation for this. He should be awake right now. My guess is that he was trying to hide from Kodos. He could have retreated into his own mind.” 

“In that case, Spock should be able to find him,” Kirk said. “If he’s in there somewhere, a meld should be enough to pull him out.” 

Spock frowned. Melding is what got them into all of this trouble. But Kirk’s suggestion was reasonable, and if Jim had buried himself in the dark corners of his own mind, it could take a lifetime before he emerged again. What had happened to push him that far? Had the physical pain been so extreme? Or was Jim escaping something else? 

“Well? What about it, Spock? Would a meld work?” 

“Yes, there is a possibility that it will be beneficial. But it may not yield the hoped for results.” 

“You didn’t bother with stating the exact odds, Spock. Is that because they’re so good or so poor?” Kirk asked. 

Spock exhaled softly. “I am willing to make the attempt.” 

“Should we…leave the room?” Uhura asked. 

“That is not necessary. But I must ask for complete silence.” 

Spock’s fingers hovered over Jim’s face, not quite touching him. Despite the reason for the attempt, a part of Spock could not wait to touch Jim’s mind again. It was as hot as any day in the Vulcan desert, but it was anything except barren and harsh. It pulsed with energy and vibrancy. There were many different ways to experience a person’s mindscape during a meld, and when Spock reached into Jim’s mind, he experienced colors. Brilliant, beautiful, nuanced shades, each one representing something different. There were millions of them, any one of them fascinating enough to grab Spock’s full attention. Pools of color, clouds of color, walls of color, endless, winding paths and music and laughter. The world itself dulled in comparison to the brilliance of Jim’s mind. Who would not want to return to that? 

Shielding his darkest emotions of guilt and rage, Spock finally touched the proper pressure points on Jim’s face. “My mind to yours…” 

Melds were not something to do without a great deal of training and preparation. Depending on the person being melded with, they could actually be quite difficult to accomplish. But melding with Jim had never been difficult. Even when Jim had resisted him the first time, there was still the sense that Spock was merely slipping into space he was always meant to occupy. More evidence of their destiny? 

This time was no different. Spock easily created the connection between their minds and delved into Jim’s self. The first thing he noticed was the only thing he truly needed to see. The colors were gone. Every single one of them. Spock stepped into a world of white, more extreme than any frozen planet. Everything still existed as Spock remembered—there were still ridges and pools and clouds and paths—but all of the color had been erased. Not whitewashed. Spock knew that much. The colors weren’t obscured, they were _gone_. 

“Jim?” 

No response. No acknowledgement. Spock had suspected it wouldn’t be easy to find Jim, but this was far worse than he had allowed himself to imagine. He moved, propelling himself forward, but nothing changed. The mindscape scrolled by him, as though he was standing still on a moving walkway. But it didn’t change. It merely repeated itself again and again. The rest of Jim’s mind was keeping him out. Protecting itself. Spock knew he could probably force his way deeper into Jim’s self, but at what cost? If the man was hiding, any sign of force or aggression would just frighten him further and perhaps cause irreparable damage. Spock did not have the proper training to pursue him, or the necessary objectivity. 

With a heavy sense of disappointment, Spock gently eased back from the meld, breaking it slowly so he would not give Jim’s system even more of a shock. 

“Well?” McCoy demanded as soon as Spock opened his eyes. 

“He’s…he’s not there.” 

“What does that mean?” Uhura asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. Where else could he be?” 

“I…I do not know. His brain is still functioning. It is even defending itself. But the essence of what makes Jim Kirk who he is has…vanished.” 

“What do we do to get him back?” McCoy asked. “There’s not really a hypo I can administer in cases like this.” 

“It is beyond my own realm of knowledge,” Spock admitted. 

“Perhaps Spock…my Spock…will know the solution,” Kirk said. “I’d say at this point the list of things he doesn’t know is quite small. He’ll be arriving soon.” 

Spock nodded. His older counterpart had a great deal more experience and knowledge than Spock did at that moment. What was a confounding puzzle to him might be no more than a small problem to Ambassador Spock. 

“So in the mean time we can’t do anything except wait?” Uhura asked. 

“Yes, that is our only alternative.” 

He could tell by Nyota’s face that she didn’t like the answer. He didn’t like it, either. 

#

“I tell you to take me anywhere in the universe, and you bring me here?” Jim asked, looking around a perplexed frown pulling at his mouth. 

“I cannot take you _anywhere_ in the universe because I have not traveled that extensively. I can only show you what I’ve seen.” 

“And…this is the thing you’ve seen that you wanted to share?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“I believe you if you stop speaking and start observing, you’ll find the answer to your question.” 

“You always find the nicest ways to tell me to shut up, Spock. What am I observing, exactly?” 

Spock took Jim by the shoulders and gently turned him to face the opposite direction. In Jim’s opinion, the new position didn’t do much to improve the view. He couldn’t quite tell if it was night or day. There was something high in the sky, but it could have been a large satellite or a small star. It glowed a sort of eerie green color, and the whole planet reflected that strange light. Jim suspected that might have something to do with large copper deposits in the soil and water, but he wasn’t certain. 

Gradually, the details of the scene in front of him fit into place, revealing just what Spock wanted him to observe. At first, it seemed to have been nothing more than a desert with tall rock formations under the glowing green sun (or moon). The sand shifted in a breeze Jim couldn’t feel, but as he watched, he realized it wasn’t sand. And it wasn’t shifting. It looked more like it was breathing. The rock formations were moving as well. Jim couldn’t actually see that, but if he glanced away and looked back, he realized that they were in a new place. An inch to the right or to the left. 

“What is this?” 

“It’s technically an asteroid. Federation scientists believe that it broke off of a planet, probably that one.” He pointed to the glowing green body. “Due to its irregular orbital pattern, it is not technically a satellite of that planet, though its orbit does bring it quite close to its mother planet once every ninety-five Earth years.” 

“That’s very interesting, Spock, but I don’t…” 

“Everything is alive. The whole asteroid.” 

“What?” 

“The rocks, the sand, the water—it only appears to be those things to you. Every object on this planet is technically alive.” 

“Sentient?” 

“No. There doesn’t appear to be any sort of intelligent life on the asteroid. Possibly because there is no opportunity for a large enough brain to evolve. While most of these creatures are not single celled organisms, they still have similar respiratory and life cycles. They’re not unlike the earliest plants in Earth’s history.” 

That actually was a bit more interesting, but Jim wasn’t quite fascinated. A science lesson wasn’t exactly what Jim had in mind at that moment. “So if I were to scoop up a handful of sand…” 

“You’d actually be scooping up organisms that are too small for the human eye but in great concentration.” 

“Would it be dangerous?” 

“To them, perhaps.” 

“I’m surrounded by bacteria. That’s…wait, why are they glowing?” 

“Because they experience a chemical reaction similar to the process of photosynthesis. The glow is the byproduct.” 

“How do you know all this? Have you been here before?” 

“No. Federation has declared this asteroid too dangerous. Given the amount of living organisms, there is no safe place to install a research base. There is also too much uncertainty about whether or not the organisms are dangerous. But…I’ve always wanted to have the chance to explore. To be present at a planet’s beginning.” 

“You think that more life will evolve?” 

“I think that it must. It’s an amazing scientific opportunity. It could bring a new understanding to our concept of life and sustainability.” 

“It could,” Jim agreed slowly, still not sure what Spock wanted him to get from the experience. It was cool. He couldn’t deny that. But it still wasn’t what he expected when he instructed Spock to take him somewhere with significance. Somewhere that mattered. Especially since Spock had never been here before. 

“I read about Asteroid R-2127 while I was struggling with my decision to apply to Starfleet. I felt some certainty that I would be accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy. I submitted the highest scores of any applicant, and I am the son of my father. But if I chose to remain on Vulcan, even at that prestigious institute, I would never have the chance to see R-2127.” 

“This is why you chose to enroll in Starfleet Academy?” 

"It's why I chose to apply. Not why I chose to enroll.” 

“Spock…you’re going to have the chance you were hoping for. They’re not going to keep us treading water forever.” 

The corner of Spock’s mouth barely moved, forming a small smile. “Yes, I know. You will not tolerate another year of running errands and representing the Federation in boring state dinners.” 

“I thought you said those dinners were important.” 

“They are. But you were not meant for those sorts of things.” 

Jim stepped closer, looping his arm around Spock’s waist. The Vulcan did more than tolerate the surprise embrace—he returned it with ease. “Spock…if the asteroid has been classified as too dangerous, what are we doing here?” 

“You are forgetting again.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“This isn’t real, Jim. We are only waiting until it is safe to emerge.” 

“Because I’m hiding…why would I do that? I’m not a coward.” 

“You do not remember who you are hiding from?” 

“No. Maybe the danger has passed?” 

“That is possible. You could have been removed from the dangerous situation. Do you wish to return?” 

“I like it here.” He pressed two fingers to Spock’s cheek, just below his eye. He didn’t know for sure if that would work, but he remembered the way he had nearly melted to the floor when Spock touched him in a similar way. Jim wasn’t disappointed--Spock closed his eyes with obvious pleasure. 

“It is very pleasant, but it’s not real.” 

“I know. But…I don’t know how to find my way home again.” 

#

They sat in a semi-circle around the bed, and if it reminded McCoy a little too much of a vigil, he didn’t mention it. McCoy kept himself busy, monitoring the various machines that didn’t technically need him to study them every ten minutes, but neither Spoke nor Nyota moved or glanced away from Jim’s prone form. On the opposite side, Kirk sat, his face creased in concentration. Ambassador Spock sat the head of the bed, his fingers resting on Jim’s face, his eyes closed. 

It was decided that another meld would be best, and McCoy didn’t like the thought of them taking turns poking through Jim’s mind without his knowledge or consent, but he didn’t have any other alternative to offer. His own attempts to fix the problem were constantly frustrated, and it didn’t help that he had absolutely no idea who this Kodos character was or why he’d be interested in hurting Jim. 

He wanted to ask, except Ambassador Spock had requested silence while he worked. McCoy didn’t know the consequences for breaking Spock’s concentration in the middle of a mind meld, and he didn’t want to find out. So he kept his questions to himself and split his attention between his unconscious friend and the machines monitoring everything from his pulse to the level of iron in his blood. When he was satisfied the status of neither would change, he let his attention drift to Nyota’s drawn face. 

In other circumstances, he might have considered taking a swing at Spock’s face for putting a girl like Nyota through hell. Considering the fact that Spock was also responsible for Jim’s torment, and McCoy thought he had even more reason to pick a fight with the pointy-eared bastard. But his own oaths stopped him from dwelling seriously on the possibility. Not to mention the fact that Spock was trained in advanced hand-to-hand and he was about twenty times stronger than the average human. 

Still, a solid punch to the nose might be quite satisfying. 

It was impossible to tell where things stood between Spock and Nyota just by watching them. They never really acted like a couple from what McCoy had seen. Occasionally they would take meals together in the mess, or play a game of chess in the rec room, or work out together, but that was about it. The fact that they were sitting beside each other without touching, looking at each other, or talking offered McCoy exactly zero clues on the status of their relationship. Just like watching Jim’s relaxed face offered zero clues on what was going on behind his closed eyes. 

The whole damned situation was wearing on his nerves. He didn’t like to be the only guy in the room who didn’t have a single idea of what was going on. Jim was his best friend and Nyota was the woman he was developing serious feelings for and he was a doctor, _damnit_. He shouldn’t have been in the dark at all. 

Nyota chose that moment to look up from Jim and catch his eye. She might have seen his frustration all over his face, because she offered a small, encouraging smile. McCoy couldn’t help but answer with one of his own. Regardless of where things stood between her and Spock, he at least had the comfort of knowing she’d always be his friend. And if Jim didn’t wake up soon, McCoy was definitely going to need a friend. 

Ambassador Spock broke contact with Jim and sat back in his chair. But he kept his eyes closed and didn’t speak. A million questions leapt to McCoy’s lips, but he bit them back respectfully. If Spock had something to tell them, he would. Even if it was on his own terms and timetable. 

“Spock is correct. I could not sense Jim at all.” 

McCoy felt like the older Vulcan had slugged him in the stomach, and judging from the looks on Nyota and Spock’s faces, they felt the same way. 

“How do you suggest we find him,” Kirk asked. 

“We follow the trail he left.” 

Spock looked up. “What trail?” 

“I believe I can help, but you must trust me.” 

“Of course I do,” Spock answered. 

The ambassador looked over to McCoy. “You are his doctor and his friend. I require your permission as well.” 

“I don’t even know what’s going on here. Are you going to do something dangerous?” 

“It might be, but I believe that with the proper control and precautions, it will be successful.” 

“What do we need to do?” Kirk asked. 

“Help Jim find his way back to his own body. I believe he followed the bond between himself and Spock in an effort to escape Kodos.” 

Spock jumped to his feet. “What are you saying? That Jim is in _my_ mind?” 

“Yes.” 

McCoy blinked and shook his head. “How’s that possible?” 

“Is it his _katra_?” Kirk asked. 

“That is not an inaccurate way to view it,” Spock said. He turned his attention to his younger self and added, “He was looking for a safe place to hide. The bond led him directly to the haven he needed.” 

“How can you be sure of that? I do not sense him at all. I have been calling for him, but there has never been an answer.” 

“Do you not meditate to reach the deepest parts of yourself?” 

“I do.” 

“Do you have access to those places when you are not meditating?” 

“No, I do not.” Spock inclined his head. “Tell me what to do.” 

“Now, wait a minute. Can’t we actually test this hypothesis before we act on it?”

“How do you suggest we do that?” The younger Spock asked with barely concealed irritation. “If I attempted to meditate, it could take me days to locate Jim’s _katra_ , if he has indeed hidden himself. The sooner we act, the better.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I have been searching for you, Captain.” 

Jim didn’t look up from his book. “You couldn’t have been searching for very long. I’ve been right here for…well, for awhile. Anyway, I told you I wanted to catch up on my reading.” 

“Jim…” 

The word caught in Spock’s throat and broke a little. Not a lot, but enough for Jim to notice. The Spock that had been keeping him company never sounded anything less than perfectly friendly and perfectly disinterested. Which was basically what Jim had come to expect from Spock, so it didn’t bother him too much. But this Spock…he didn’t sound merely friendly or at all disinterested. 

Jim looked up with a frown between his eyes. “Spock…what is it?” 

“It’s you. You’re here and you’re…luminous.”

“Luminous? You’ve called me many things in the past year, but that’s a first.” 

“I should not have waited so long to say it.” 

“Just make it a point to repeat it daily and I’ll forgive you.” Jim grinned and set the book aside. “That was a joke, by the way. I thought you were getting better about that.” 

“About what, sir?” 

“Appreciating my wit.” 

“Appreciating your…” Spock tilted his head and considered for a moment. “Yes. I think I understand now.” 

“Understand what? That I’m a funny guy or that you’re supposed to pretend that I am?” 

“You and I have had many conversations. I am beginning to remember them now. I showed you the asteroid…” 

“You’re beginning to remember them? Spock…what’s going on?” 

“I have come to show you the way back.” 

“Back…where?” 

Spock regarded him for a moment. “Back to your own body. Do you understand what’s happening here?” 

“I was reading a book…but that’s not what you mean, is it?” 

“No. We’re together in my mind. I did not sense you before because you had traveled so far into the recesses of my consciousness in an effort to look for safety. I believe I must have you pulled you to me when I sensed your pain.” 

“Pain…” Jim tried the word, rolling it in his mouth. There was something about pain. Something that he and Spock had discussed before. When the pain stopped, he needed to leave. That’s what Spock had said. This could only be temporary—a reprieve until it was safe to return. “Has the pain stopped now?” 

“Yes, I believe it has. Dr. McCoy has declared that you will make a full physical recovery. Anton Karidian, formerly Kodos the Executioner, along with his wife, Lydia, have been arrested and will be brought to trial soon. They are no longer a danger to you.” 

“I’ve been in your mind this whole time? We’re both in your mind right now? How are you here?” 

“The elder Spock is assisting me, guiding this meld. Without his aid, I might not have been able to find you at all.” 

“I guess I’m better at hiding than I thought.” Jim carefully replaced the book. The absurdity of the action struck him, and he could barely bite back his laughter. It wasn’t like he needed to tidy up after himself. The library was nothing more than a figment of…somebody’s imagination. How did that work? It was Spock’s mind, and yet, he had conjured up that library. But he was reading books that he had never had time to view before, so they must have been created by Spock. “You have a photographic memory, don’t you?” 

“Yes. I have an eidetic memory.” 

“That must be very handy.” 

“It has been quite useful at times.” 

“That’s how I could read these…how I could experience so much…it must be so difficult for you. I never realized before.” 

“Captain?” 

“You’re so much smarter than the rest of us, Spock. We must seem like small, stupid children to you. Very stupid children.” 

“I would never classify you as a stupid child, Captain.” 

“Thanks…I think.” 

“I only mean that I have been in your mind, and it is not inferior. In fact, it is quite…superior.” 

“If it wasn’t for the luminous comment earlier, I’d say that’s the nicest thing anybody ever said to me.” 

“Before we leave, I would like to offer my deepest apologies,” Spock said. 

Jim frowned, trying to figure out what Spock could be referring to. His memories were all a jumbled haze. He hadn’t bothered him before, but now he couldn’t help but be irritated. Why couldn’t he remember anything? What had Spock said? They were in his mind? 

“What do you need to apologize for?” He asked with genuine curiosity. 

“My role in the events that led to this point. I had an undeniable, yet unintentional, part in this, and I ask for your forgiveness.” 

“Spock…what did you do? You wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I know that much.” 

Spock opened his mouth, but whatever protest—and Jim knew it’d be a protest—he had to offer died before it could be uttered. He studied Jim for a long moment, his dark eyes betraying several levels of doubt and hesitance. Whatever he was about to apologize for, he didn’t actually expect forgiveness. 

“Jim, I behaved in a most shameful manner. I made one very serious mistake and compounded that error until I could no longer…see the correct path. I should have approached the situation logically and done what I could to assist you, and if I could not, then I should have sought the appropriate help.” 

“I…Spock, honestly, I don’t understand. What was the serious mistake?” 

“The first meld I initiated was the mistake. I compounded that by convincing you to try another against your express wishes. I created and strengthened a bond between us without requesting your consent or explaining what that meant. Unable to find the correct way to rectify that, I shut myself off rather than reach an accordance with you.” 

Jim sighed. “Oh. We’re doing this again? I don’t want to have this conversation anymore, Spock. I know you think it’s all a horrible mistake. I know you’d take it back if you could, even though the link proved itself to be quite handy.” 

“No, please, Jim. That is not what I meant. I would like to clarify this before we leave. It might prove easier to have this discussion now rather than later.” 

“I’m in no hurry to leave.” 

“The depths of my emotions for you is quite unprecedented in my life. I am quite fond of Nyota, and I believe you know what I felt for my mother. But the friendship I felt for you was quite unexpected. Friendship is not something encouraged or even necessary on Vulcan, and I have resisted nearly all overtures by others to form that sort of bond. But I was quite startled to find that I could not resist you, and I did not want to. I have very little experience with friendship, and I offer that as an explanation for my behavior. If I had been a better friend to you, I would have never--.” 

“Done the meld? Spock, you shouldn’t beat yourself up over this. The first one wasn’t your fault. Hell, you’re right. Q could have been responsible for the second one, too. You’ve been a fine friend to me.” 

“That is not what I was going to say.” 

“Oh. What were you going to say?” 

“If I had been a friend, I would have never been so cruel. Jim…” Spock took a step forward, and Jim realized it was ridiculous for there to be so much distance between them. They were apparently sharing a brain, they should have been closer. Close enough to touch. “That is what I wish to apologize for. I have been cruel to you. You have shown me nothing but compassion, and I have responded with an appalling level of selfishness. It was that very selfishness that led you to your meeting with Lydia Karidian. I apologize for that as well.” 

“Spock…” 

“It is your prerogative to refuse to accept my apologies. If you do so, I will understand.” 

“Spock…come here.” 

Spock obediently stepped forward until only a foot separated them. Jim took him by the arm and pulled him closer, until they were touching. It was all illusionary, Jim understood. Their real, physical bodies probably weren’t in contact at all. But at that moment, Spock was as real as anything Jim had ever felt. And he was perfect. Jim had waited a lifetime to feel Spock fit against him again. 

“I understand…more. You didn’t attempt to keep secrets from me. I saw what you went through when you were a child. I know the difficulty you had with Sarek, and the loss you still feel for Amanda. I know what you feel for Nyota, and how those feelings were allowed to develop. I even saw the moment you fell for me.” 

“There was a precise moment?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m surprised you haven’t realized that yet.” 

“Has all this knowledge given you a new insight?” 

“I think it might have. There’s no question of forgiving you, Spock. There’s never been a question of that.” 

Spock glanced down. “That’s what he told me.” 

“Who?” 

“Captain Kirk. He said if I apologized, you would forgive me.” 

“He’s a smart man. You should probably listen to him more. But honestly? I probably would have forgiven you even if you hadn’t apologized.” 

“Why would you offer forgiveness that I had not asked for?” 

“Consider it one of the many vagaries of love.” 

“I shall.” Spock curled his hand around Jim’s. “Come, t’hy’la, it’s time for us to depart.” 

“Wait…Kirk said that you would explain that word to me and it would all make sense.”

“Did he?” 

“Yes. The same time he advised me not to give up on you. So…what does it mean?” 

“It is a very ancient word for a very ancient concept. In the pre-reformation era, Vulcans were a warrior race. Our leaders were often quick to take offense, whether or not any was intended, and any offense to their honor must be challenged. As a result, the Houses of Vulcan were often engaged in endless warfare with no clear beginning and no end in sight. Families suffered and the Vulcan society stagnated. Due to the length of the engagements as well as the standard age of the warriors, proper marriages and mating rituals were often impossible. Other bonds would develop to compensate. Not husband or wife, but _t’hy’la_. It is difficult to translate fully to Standard, but it is friend, lover, companion, brother. I believe, if I understand the common usage, humans might refer to the concept as soul mate.” 

“And I’m…your t’hy’la?” 

“Yes. It is rare for anybody in this time to form that sort of bond. There is no longer a warrior class and the concept itself has been ritualized and mostly forgotten.” 

“So, Vulcans believe soul mates exist…” 

“Some do, yes. Some believe the concept has as little to do with their life now as any of the other rituals inherited from the pre-reformation era. They were created in the chaos and fury of battle, not through the cool distance of logic.” 

“But you know an awful lot about it. Is that just because you make it a point to know everything?” 

“It is a part of my heritage, and thus, it is a part of who I am. It is knowledge I am even more grateful to have now.” 

They were still holding hands, and Jim lifted their clasped fingers to eyelevel, using his other hand to caress the back of Spock’s knuckles. “This is real, right? You’re really here and we’re really having this conversation? Because I’m not sure I could stand waking up and having it all be a dream.” 

“I can offer you no assurances that I am myself if you doubt it.” 

“I’m just going to have to take it on faith that following you out of here is the best thing to do?” 

“Yes.” 

“Even though I really enjoy exploring everything here and you’re always nice to me?” 

“There is far more out there to explore, and I promise I will always be nice to you.” 

“I am going to hold you to that.” 

“Of course.” 

Jim grinned and didn’t resist as Spock led him away from the library. This time, he hoped Spock was real and leading him out, rather than dragging him deeper into his defenses. He missed the real Spock, as prickly and stand-offish as he could be, he missed his crew, and he missed his ship. 

#

Ambassador Spock slumped forward, his face a sickly ash color, his thin shoulders hunched. Kirk immediately rushed to him, wrapping his arms around the older Vulcan and pulling him close. 

“Spock? What happened? Are you all right?” 

“I am well, Jim.” The words were raspy and thin. 

“No, you’re not. You’re exhausted.” 

Uhura looked over to the bed, where Jim and Spock remained unmoving, their eyes closed. “What about them? Are they all right?” 

“They’re asleep,” Leonard said. “That’s all. Just resting after the ordeal they’ve had.” He pointedly looked at each of them. “They’re not the only ones who need to rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We know.” Kirk tightened his hold around Spock’s shoulders. “Were you able to sense what was happening between them? Have they…worked things out?” 

“They seem to have reached a détente. What that will mean after they wake up, I can’t say.” 

“But Spock’s admitted to his feelings?” Kirk pressed. 

“Yes, he did.” 

The older man beamed. “Good. I thought he would deny it for for another twenty years, like you did.” 

Spock looked surprised by the words—as surprised as a Vulcan could look. “I did not deny anything for twenty years, Captain. I came to terms with my feelings while we were both quite young.” 

“What?” 

“Your hearing isn’t deteriorating, is it? At your advanced age…” 

“My hearing is fine. What do you mean, you came to terms with your feelings…you had feelings?” 

“Yes. Why are you behaving as though you were not aware of this?” 

“Because I _wasn’t_. I thought…I thought you didn’t have any feelings for me until after…after you came back.” 

“No,” Spock said mildly. “They pre-date that by many years.” 

“Come on, we’re going to talk about this.” 

“The doctor said we should be resting,” Spock said, as he followed Kirk out of sickbay. 

“We will rest. After we talk. So how long have you loved me?” 

“The question is immaterial, since we cannot go back in time. All that matters is the feelings I possess for you now.” 

“That’s a bunch of bull,” Uhura heard Kirk say as the door slid shut. 

“These two will probably be out cold for awhile,” Leonard said. 

Uhura turned back to the two sleeping forms. Jim had turned at some point, and now he was sleeping with half of his body draped over Spock’s. Spock didn’t seem to mind—he hadn’t moved an inch. She knew from experience that he preferred not to have people sleeping on top of him. Or maybe he preferred if _she_ kept to her side of the bed. 

Uhura bit her lip as a wave of bitter feelings swept through her. This was going to be something of a regular occurrence, she knew. Regardless of the way things fell apart between them, she had loved him. She still loved him. That wasn’t something she could just turn off. As much as she might like to. She had fully believed that a future with Spock was possible, encouraged by Amanda’s long and successful marriage to Sarek. If a teacher from Earth could be happily married to a Vulcan, then somebody with Uhura’s experience at the Academy and on a starship should be able to have a good relationship with a half-Vulcan. It had seemed so logical at the time. 

“How are you doing?” Leonard asked, touching her arm in a friendly gesture. 

“I’m…” She took a deep breath and swallowed the threatening tears. “I’ve had people dump me before, but never like this. I just need some time to…adjust.” 

“I know.” 

“I keep myself that if they’re bond mates, then they’re bond mates. There’s nothing I can do about that. But it’s--.” 

“Cold comfort?” 

“Right. But then…a part of me is just glad that it’s all over. These past four months have been awful. What do you think is going to happen when we return to the Enterprise. Do you think they’re going to be…dating?” 

Leonard shook his head. “I’ll just be happy if they’re not fighting each other anymore. It’s not going to be too hard for you to be around them, is it? I think that the Enterprise would suffer a great loss if you requested a transfer.” 

“Oh, I’m never going to do that,” Uhura said quickly. “I love that ship as much as I ever loved Spock. It’s my home now.” 

“Good. Because when I said the Enterprise would suffer a great loss, I meant me.” 

“Leonard…” 

He frowned and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. My timing…” 

“Your timing is fine,” she said quickly. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think…” 

“I know that you’re going through a lot right now. But when you’re ready, and if you’re interested, I’d like you to join me for dinner.” 

Her cheeks warmed. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

“A no pressure date,” Leonard rushed to say. “I don’t expect you to give me an answer right now. I just want you to know that the option is there.” 

“Well…could we set a date for it?” 

“When would you like it?” 

“A month from tonight. I don’t think I’ll be very good company before then.” 

Leonard smiled. “Can we still meet for lunch? I look forward to that every day.” 

“Absolutely. We’re still friends after all.” 

“Come on. Let’s give these two some peace and quiet. And be thankful that neither of us were given quarters next to Kirk and Ambassador Spock.” 

“You think they’re still arguing?” 

“Let’s just say, I have a funny feeling.”


	17. Chapter 17

Jim woke up slowly, unwilling to leave behind the warmth and comfort of his deep slumber. He searched his memory for a compelling reason to wake up, but he couldn’t find anything. He snuggled closer to Spock and…

_Wait. That’s not right._

Without opening his eyes, he ran his fingers down the side of the body next to him. Instead of curves, he felt angles. He also felt the heat of a being with a higher base temperature than ninety-eight point six. His curiosity pushed some of the fuzzy layers of sleep away, and he realized that he wasn’t the only person conducting an exploration. Spock’s fingers were light on his face, roaming over his cheekbones and nose and brow, but they were unmistakable. That must have been what pulled him from sleep. 

Instead of opening his eyes, Jim decided to enjoy it for a few more minutes. He didn’t know if he was in some sort of wonderful dream, or if this was just another permutation of the fantasies he had been experiencing since following Spock’s voice away from Kodos, away from the pain he didn’t know how to handle, and the vivid flashbacks he didn’t know how to process. Whether or not it was an actual dream or another fantasy, he didn’t want to startle Spock into stopping, or startle himself into waking up fully. 

He almost moaned his disappointment when Spock’s touch disappeared, but within seconds, the pressure returned, this time centered over Jim’s temple. Spock caressed the skin there in a slow circle, and Jim could actually feel the power flowing from his fingertips. If he had the mind to, he could use that power to knock Jim unconscious, but now he seemed more than happy to simply work the tension out of his flesh. Jim’s jaw relaxed, and then his neck, and then his shoulder. Why had he been so tense? Had he really been sleeping like that? 

Spock didn’t stop until Jim thought he was going to melt into the pillow. Then he very gently slid his fingers down the side of Jim’s face, his touch so light, but that strange power still there. He didn’t stop until he reached the back of Jim’s jaw, just below his ear, and the massage began again. As far as Jim knew, he didn’t have any pain in the muscles there—he didn’t realize how wrong he had been until Spock began to massage him again. As the pain drained away, replaced by a sort of boneless bliss, he realized that he hurt everywhere. Where had all that pain come from? It never felt like that before. In fact, once he had followed Spock into the Vulcan’s mind, everything had been downright numb. 

He wasn’t numb now. Once, in training, somebody had stunned him with a phaser—ostensibly on accident—and Jim had been sore for three full days afterward. He supposed that was better than the alternative, but it still acted as a good reminder not to shoot somebody unless he absolutely had to. He felt like that now, except worse. The pain was so thorough, so bone deep, that it was almost like a natural part of him. He didn’t realize it until Spock began to release it. 

Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all? It seemed possible, even if Spock was currently engaged in an activity that would simultaneously turn Jim into putty and also make him as hard as a rock. 

Spock finished massaging below Jim’s ear, and it was time to move his fingers again. This time, he traced over Jim’s throat, pausing for a moment to rest his fingertips on the hollow of Jim’s throat. Checking his pulse. Spock had to know that he was awake, which meant if he was going to stop, it would probably be soon. Hoping to hold off the inevitable, Jim kept his eyes closed, even when Spock gently pushed him onto his back. Though it was harder not to open them when Spock began undressing him. 

The air was a little cool against his skin. Enough to make him shiver. Spock compensated by pulling the blanket higher. They were definitely in bed, but whose? And where? And why did Spock seem so insistent on touching every single inch of him? Now he was paying particular attention to Jim’s shoulders, finding each pressure point and teasing every nerve ending. The pain continued to leave him. Maybe Spock was pushing it out. Or maybe he was pulling it into his own body. Or maybe he was high on painkillers—surely if he was with Spock then he was some place safe? 

Unless it was a trick. There were plenty of hallucinogens that could create this sort of delusion. They were widely available and some weren’t even regulated. What would stop Kodos from using one or several on him to make him more pliant? He was damned near purring, and he didn’t even know if it was really Spock touching him or just some sort of trick. In fact, it probably _was_ a trick. 

Jim’s eyes flew open and he jerked away, rolling off the bed and out of reach. His heart raced in his ears, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins was more than enough to fuel a short burst of speed. 

“Jim! Jim, you’re safe. You’re safe. We are at Starfleet.” 

Jim’s eyes darted around the room, absorbing the details. He was clearly in sickbay, and the person standing on the other side of the bed was clearly Spock. 

“This isn’t a hallucination?” 

“No, it is not.” 

“Not a dream?” 

“It is not a dream.” 

“We’re not stuck in somebody’s mind? You’re not going to tell me that we need to go back?” 

“We are back. Everything is as it should be.” 

“What happened? Did you find me?” 

“Yes. Kodos still had his obligation at the theater. I simply waited for him, rendered him unconscious, and then searched his mind until I knew where he was keeping you. Once I had that information, it was a simple matter of retrieving you.” 

“How long ago was that?” 

“Approximately two days, sir. You were in a deep coma as a result of an attempt to escape the pain.” 

Jim frowned. “You…came in and told me that it was safe. You brought me back.” 

“Yes. With Ambassador Spock’s help.” 

“They’re here? Are we still in Chicago?” 

“Yes. He and Kirk have been quite helpful since Kodos took you. In fact, I would not have known where to look or who to look for if Kirk had not recognized Anton Karidian as the former governor of Tarsus IV. Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura are also here.”

“Where is Kodos now?” 

“He and his wife, Lydia, are both in custody. She was one of the loyalists who fought for Kodos when the relief ships arrived. She also helped him escape and they were married when he assumed his new identity. You did not recognize her because she was not living in the governor’s home while on Tarsus IV.” 

“Oh. Will I get the chance to see him?” 

“I am sure it can be arranged if you wish it, but I do not understand why you would wish to.” 

Jim didn’t understand, either. He didn’t even know if he ever wanted to see Kodos, but he wanted to have the option. “What were you doing just now?” 

“I was attempting to manage your pain. Your body is still recovering from the torture Kodos implemented. Dr. McCoy has been giving you a regular treatment of painkillers, but I thought I would try a different method to ensure your comfort.” 

Jim smiled. “It was nice. It was actually really nice.” 

“I can continue, if you like.” 

Jim probably could have thought of reasons why he shouldn’t let Spock return to his task. It would be awkward for both of them. Bones’ regiment of painkillers would be sufficient. They probably needed to talk some more before he let Spock rub down his body. But Jim didn’t find any of those excuses compelling. Especially since the pain was leaching into his shoulders once again. Soon, his neck and then his head would be throbbing. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.” 

Spock gestured at the bed, silently inviting him to stretch back out on the firm mattress. Jim did, choosing to lay on his stomach with his face pressed into the pillow. He inhaled and realized that it smelled of Spock. The realization made his heart lurch. Spock had been sleeping with him? In the same bed? How had that happened? Jim decided not to ask. He didn’t want to do anything to discourage Spock from letting it happen again. 

“So, Uhura is here?” 

“Yes, she accompanied Dr. McCoy when I contacted him. They were both quite concerned for your well-being.” 

Spock was working on his shoulders again, and each slow press of his fingers robbed a little more of Jim’s energy. He was losing the ability to think properly and speak clearly. By the time Spock made it all the way down his back, Jim had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to remember his own name. Which meant he had to get his questions out of the way now, or he might not ever get a chance to ask them. 

“Have you spoken to her?” 

“Yes. She was aware of what happened between us before she arrived. Dr. McCoy told her.” 

.“He did _what_?” Jim moved to sit up, prepared to track his friend down and read him the riot act. A warm, strong hand between his shoulder blades pushed him back to the bed. Despite his anger, Jim found it was impossible to fight against Spock’s touch. 

“There is no cause to be angry. He did not intend any harm, and I believe he kept the details to himself. She has accepted the news with undeniable grace, and I hope our friendship will continue.” 

“So she still wants to be friends with you. What about me?” 

“I did not detect any ill will towards you.” 

“Oh…well good. I really didn’t want her to hate me.” 

“I do not believe she does, sir.” 

_Sir_. That was the second time Spock had referred to him so formally, but it didn’t bother him. He didn’t have any impulse to correct Spock. Perhaps because the word wasn’t being used as a weapon. Jim closed his eyes and let himself relax once again. He would still have a little talk with Bones, but it wouldn’t be quite so angry. There’d definitely be less yelling than he had originally planned. 

“Why are you so good at this?” Jim slurred. Spock was only halfway down his back, still releasing the threads of pain that bound him. He could breathe easier. His blood was flowing. He was hard as a rock once again, but that seemed like a pretty small price to pay for the complete bliss washing through his frame. 

“It is a combination of Vulcan strength, the sensitivity of my fingers, and having a deep knowledge of what you like.” 

“Where did that knowledge come from?”

_You told me. You are telling me right now._

Jim’s eyes shot open, but again, Spock kept him from sitting up. _We can still do this?_

_Of course. Why wouldn’t we?_

_I thought you would have had Ambassador Spock help you remove the link or sever it or something._

_No, I do not wish to do that. However, if you wish to…_

_No! I mean…I like having you here._

_Yes, I find it pleasurable as well._

Something warm and wonderful and familiar filled him. Jim had felt it before—when Spock had been attempting to comfort him while he searched for Jim’s captor. But this was different. Bigger. Sweeter. Sharper, somehow. It moved through him like music, each deep chord resonating in Jim’s chest. There was something a little…untamed about it. Like a small fire, it needed only a breath of air, the smallest encouragement, to be stoked into a storm of flames. Jim couldn’t do anything except what he had done before. Let it carry him away. Float on top of it and be submerged in it and give himself over to it without hesitation. 

This was Spock. This was what Spock had to offer him when he offered a piece of himself. Jim was greedy for it. He never wanted the feeling to stop. He knew that as soon as it left him, he would be depleted. If Spock had only intended for this to last long enough to be an emotional balm while he worked his magic over Jim’s flesh, there was going to be a problem. A big one. 

“Why will you not relax?” 

“What?” 

“Despite my efforts, you’re muscles tense and your heart starts beating faster, as though you are preparing for a fight. You are not in any danger here. There is no reason for that sort of response.” 

“I know, Spock. I’m just…I got a lot on my mind.” 

“Clear your mind.” 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

“Not really.” 

Jim smiled. “Okay, okay. I’m clearing my mind.” 

“Would you like to talk about the source of your anxiety?” 

“No.” 

_That is fine. I’m confident I know the source._

_Oh yeah? What?_

_You think that I will distance myself from you again. You are afraid that I will take back what I am offering you. I cannot you blame you for that fear, but I will endeavor to assure you that it is unnecessary._

_Is it?_

_Yes. May I show you?_

“Yes, Spock.” 

The warm feeling had ebbed, but now it returned, more powerful than ever. Spock’s fingers were still careful, still delicately plying Jim’s flesh, but now he was down to Jim’s thighs. He didn’t even think twice before spreading his legs, giving Spock access to every inch of him. He also couldn’t hide the fact that he was hard—throbbing even—but Spock didn’t make a comment about that. He merely flexed his hands, using the aforementioned Vulcan strength to work the tension and pain out of the thick muscles of his thighs. Unfortunately, he replaced it with a different sort of ache. 

Jim focused on keeping his mind clear of questions and insecurities, choosing instead to concentrate on the very real physical responses Spock was evoking. It didn’t seem possible for Spock to be so adept at manipulating him physically, but what had he said? He had a deep knowledge of what Jim would find pleasing…because he was experiencing it, too. 

_Yes, that’s right._

“If you know so much about what I want, prove it.” He issued the challenge lightly, but it was a challenge all the same. He had one very specific desire in that moment. Spock’s hands disappeared, and then he heard the rustle of cloth as Spock removed his clothes. That was a good start. An excellent start, in fact. 

Spock drew his fingers from Jim’s ankle to the back of his knee, caressing him as he settled on the bed between Jim’s legs. How was he going to deal when Spock stopped touching him? Because the contact was more than a little addicting. 

“Do you find pleasure in worrying so much?” 

“No.” 

Spock stretched out, sliding his chest along Jim’s back until his mouth was near Jim’s ear. “Do you have a logical reason to be so anxious?” 

Each low word slid down Jim’s spine. “No?” 

“If you wish, I will discuss it with you.” 

Jim didn’t think he was going to be able to discuss anything. Not with Spock’s smooth, hot skin holding him down to the mattress. More of their bodies were touching than not. He burned at each inch of contact, and that was what he had wanted. That was the image he’d had in the back of his head when he challenged Spock, and Spock had responded without hesitation or question. Like he was completely attuned to every flare of desire, every spark of emotion, every hint of longing. 

“No…no…we can discuss it later.” 

Spock lifted his weight from Jim, supporting himself on one hand while he used the other to continue with his massage. “I am sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For all of the wrongs I have committed against you. I made too many decisions from a place of fear. I hurt you and I cannot apologize enough for that.” 

“I think…I’ve already forgiven you, haven’t I?” 

“Yes, we have had this discussion once before. But the most reasonable conclusion to draw from your level of anxiety is that you did not truly accept my word.” 

“No, it wasn’t that Spock.” Jim turned over, catching Spock with one hand so he couldn’t pull away. “I was just…thinking about how much I need you. How much I enjoy the way you were touching me. That’s all.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes. I guess it’s difficult for you to read my emotions?” 

Spock looked at him with solemn brown eyes. He was always serious, but now there was an additional intensity. Like he was looking directly into Jim’s mind. “It can be difficult to adequately interpret them, yes.” 

“I have no doubt that you’ll get better at it.” Jim reached up, tentatively cupping the back of Spock’s neck. He didn’t look away from Spock’s eyes—he couldn’t—as he gently guided the Vulcan’s mouth to his. He knew that Spock had just spent a great deal of time kissing Jim, but he still felt a little shy. It had been four months since they actually, physically kissed, but Jim had been kissing Spock in his dreams nearly every night. And he had definitely kissed Spock while he was hiding in his mind. Did that count as something real? 

The touch was gentle at first, and Jim could tell that Spock was just as tentative. He had a hard time believing Spock could ever be shy or insecure, but it sure felt like he was. Jim sighed softly and parted his lips, hungry for more of Spock, hungry for the taste of him, hungry for the pressure of his mouth, hungry for his submission—that moment when everything turned and Jim knew that Spock wouldn’t be fighting the pleasure threatening them both. 

That moment came much sooner than Jim expected. The warm feeling returned, stronger than ever, wrapping long arms around both of them as Spock opened to the kiss. Jim gently pushed his tongue past Spock’s lips, a small shock traveling through his blood to his toes. This was all he had wanted. He would happily accept more—as much as Spock could offer him—but _this_ was what he had wanted all along. The sense that they were both where they belonged. 

Jim lifted his free hand and Spock immediately slid his fingers between Jim’s, then gently brought them to rest on the pillow above Jim’s head. Locked together like that, Jim lost interest in everything that wasn’t Spock. He didn’t feel the cooler air circulating through the room as the fans turned on. He didn’t feel the bed beneath him. He felt the last tendrils of his concern disappear as he realized that Spock really, truly, honestly was not going to change his mind and leave him. 

As soon as he let go of the last of his fear, he felt something shift inside of him. The pleasure was still there. The warmth of Spock’s affection still swirled through him, thick and sweet like honey. But it felt like something more was funneling into his mind, or perhaps that he was stepping out of his own body. He couldn’t shake the disorienting sense of coming and going, leaving and arriving, flowing inward and outward. 

“Sorry,” Spock gasped against his mouth. 

“What?” 

“As I need to learn to interpret your emotions correctly, you need to learn how to control the connection we have.” 

“What was I doing?” 

“You were touching my mind and then pulling away.” 

“I’m sorry, was that…I wasn’t hurting you, was I?” 

“No, not at all. But I fear it wasn’t a pleasant experience for you.” 

“It was…interesting.” He pressed a short kiss to Spock’s lips. “I’ll be more careful about it in the future.” 

This time, Spock initiated the kiss. Jim smiled inwardly at that. He might not have been accustomed to the practice, but Jim didn’t doubt that Spock was growing to like it quite a bit. The fresh surge of passion was enough to confirm that Jim’s suspicions were correct. And like everything Spock did, he did it well. Fast or slow, hard or soft, it didn’t matter. Regardless of the pressure or the speed, Spock made Jim’s head spin. 

“Funny, I don’t remember clearing Captain Kirk for this sort of activity.” 

Jim moaned and broke from Spock’s mouth long enough to mutter, “Go away, Bones.” 

“Sorry, I can’t do that. You’re awake now, that means I’ve got to conduct an examination.” 

“No, it doesn’t. I’m busy here.” 

“I can see that. Spock, if you’d be so kind as to get off of my patient…” 

“Don’t. I’m your captain, and I want you to stay.” 

“But he is your chief medical officer.” 

“He’ll be my former chief medical officer if he doesn’t leave the room right now.” 

Spock placed a soft kiss on the corner of Jim’s mouth. “I’ll return once he is finished.” 

“I can’t believe you’re on his side.” 

“I merely wish to make the inevitable examination as quick as possible.”

_I really don’t want you to go._

_I will ensure that he does not disturb us again tonight. If you cooperate, he may even let you leave the sickbay._

Jim couldn’t help but smile at that, and he relinquished his hold on Spock, allowing the Vulcan to disentangle himself from Jim and stand from the bed with as much grace as possible. He dressed without a hint of shyness, nodded at the two men, and then exited the room with what could only be described as aplomb. 

“Now…” Bones folded his arms and peered down at his mostly naked, half-hard Captain. “Let’s talk.” 

Jim was more than a little annoyed with his good friend, but he straightened up and positioned the blanket for as much dignity as possible. “Fine. Who do think you are telling Uhura all about the personal information I confided in you?” 

McCoy had the grace to look ashamed of himself. “I didn’t want to, and I tried to keep the details as vague as possible. But I thought she had a right to know.” 

“From Spock.” 

“You told Spock not to tell her! Remember? You gave him a direct order to keep his mouth shut.” 

Jim frowned. “Well…that’s true. But that still didn’t give you the right...though I guess I should just be thankful _I_ don’t have to tell her.” 

“Exactly.” 

“So, doc, what are the chances of me getting out of here tonight?” 

“Zero.” 

“You revealed very personal secrets to a third party. Ones that could technically be classified as medical. What are the chances of me getting out of here tonight?” 

McCoy sighed. “Well, when you put it that way, I’d say slightly better than zero.” 

“Thanks, that’s all I wanted to know.” 

“What are your pain levels right now?” 

Jim rubbed his arm absently. “Mild. It’d probably be gone completely if you hadn’t interrupted things.” 

“I’m guessing that means you’ve worked out everything with Spock?” 

“I think so.” 

McCoy arched his brow. “He was practically humping your leg. I’d take that as a good sign that things have worked out.” 

“It just feels weird. The last time I saw Spock…I mean the last time we were both awake and literally in the same room together, we had a big fight over how this wouldn’t work. And then I wake up today and he’s kissing me…” 

“I don’t need to know all the details, Jim.” 

“That’s a pretty important one. And I could feel him…” He smiled a little. “Still can, actually.” 

“It sounds like it’s all worked out to me,” McCoy said as he passed the medical tricorder over Jim’s chest. 

“I can’t tell. Are you relieved by this news? Did you want me and Spock to be…together?” 

“I want what’s best for you, Jim. And whatever has been going on for the past four months hasn’t been for you, for Spock, for Uhura, or for the ship. But I didn’t come in here to talk about Spock.” 

Jim sighed. “I know. But I’d rather not talk about…” 

“You’re going to have to tell me some of the details, Jim. It’d be healthier if you shared all of them, either with me or one of the ship’s counselors.” 

He grimaced. “No. I don’t want anybody on the ship knowing…” 

“You can’t keep it all bottled up inside of you. What you’ve been through…it won’t just go away.” 

“It wasn’t that bad. Spock found me before they could inflict any real damage.” 

“Physically? You’re right. You’ll have some aches and pains for a few more days, but you will make a full recovery. Mentally?” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You fled your own body, Jim. You went as far as you possibly could to escape what was happening to you. To escape what _happened_ thirteen years ago. You’re going to have to deal with that sooner or later.”

“Do I have to deal with it right now?” 

“No.” 

“Great! I’m going to my quarters.” 

“Jim, wait…” He caught Jim’s arm and his blue eyes reflected complete concern. It was hard to be annoyed or in a hurry when Bones looked at him like that. Perhaps it was because so few people ever had. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“No. You didn’t expect me to be so honest, did you? But no…I’m not sure. I don’t remember most what he did. I just wasn’t there. And for the stuff I do remember…I’ve already been living with that for half of my life. I know how to deal with it.” 

“But you never told anybody, did you? Does anybody know what happened to you there?” 

“Spock knows.” Jim swallowed. “And…I know you’re right. I know that I’m going to need help dealing with all of this. When I do, you’re at the top of the list.” 

“I’ll accept that for now.” 

“Great. So…Uhura doesn’t hate me, does she? Spock said she doesn’t, but I have the feeling that you’re in a better position to know right now.” 

McCoy shook his head. “No, she doesn’t hate you at all. She’s confused right now, and hurt, and I think she’s going to need a bit of time to nurse a broken heart. But I think she understands that you weren’t trying to steal her boyfriend.” 

“I should probably talk to her…tomorrow.” Jim hopped off the bed and reached for his discarded shirt. “I want to get back to my ship. Let Scotty know we’ll be beaming up at 0600 hours.” 

“Not right away?” 

“No. We all get the night off. You can go paint the town.” 

“That’s just one of many reasons why you’re a great captain.” 

Jim smirked. “I know.” 

“You’re not going out.” 

“Is that a question?” 

“An order. I can’t make you stay in here, but I don’t want you leaving the base.” 

“Yeah, I’d say there’s no chance of me going anywhere. I’m highly motivated to stay in my quarters. Can I go now?” 

“Do you want something for the pain before you go?” 

“Will it make me loopy?” 

“It’ll probably put you to sleep.” 

“Then no thanks. I’ll see you bright and early.” 

He slipped out of the room before McCoy could ask another question or draw him into another conversation. Spock was waiting for him. Hopefully Spock was waiting for him in his quarters, and at that moment, Spock was the only thing that mattered. He needed to feel Spock’s touch again, and his mind, and his mouth. He needed to see those serious brown eyes and lose himself in the fact that it was _real_. He’d deal with the rest of the world the next day. 

Jim couldn’t stop his sigh of disappointment when he opened the door to his room and revealed that it was empty. The room was still set to his exact specifications, and he was relieved for that. But he would have been happy to step into a room that was twenty degrees hotter and ten percent less humid if it meant Spock was making himself comfortable. 

He went to the comm to call Spock, but he caught sight of the replicator, and his stomach growled in response. When was the last time he’d had a real meal? The sandwich Lenore had fed him almost made him wish he never had to eat again, but his stomach growled again. He’d eat first, step into the ‘fresher, put on some clean, easily removable clothes, and then call Spock. 

The comm chimed, letting him know that there was somebody waiting outside his door. “Come in,” he said, assuming it could only be Spock. Behind him, the door slid open and shut again. “Do you want anything to eat? I’m starving. I think I haven’t had any real food in about a week. Besides, I’m probably going to need the energy later, right?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Jim spun around, his heart thumping. “Jesus, Lieutenant, you scared the hell out of me.” 

“I guess you were expecting Spock?” 

“Yeah.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Wishing the ground would swallow him. “I was. Um, are you hungry?” 

“No.” Uhura folded her arms. “How are you feeling? I didn’t think Leonard would let you out of his sight for awhile.” 

“He didn’t want to, but he knows when he’s been beat. How did you know that I was…” 

“I was on my way to see how you were doing. You walked right past me.” 

Jim frowned. “I did? I’m sorry. I was off in my own little world.” 

“That’s what it looked like.” 

They lapsed into silence, and Jim wondered how rude it would be to simply dismiss her. He could get away with it, but he had the feeling that it wouldn’t actually help what remained of their friendship. 

“Okay, this is really awkward,” he finally blurted. 

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Yes, it is. I didn’t think it would be this bad, but…” 

“Are we back to you not liking me?” 

“Oh, Jim, I always liked you. I just thought you were a bit…arrogant.” 

“I am a bit arrogant.” 

“Well, I must have got used it.” 

“Fair enough. Look…I’m sorry.” 

She tilted her head. “What are you apologizing for?” 

“Everything? I really, really wish that you weren’t caught in all of this. And I wish that Spock hadn’t wasted your time for the past four months. I wish that you weren’t forced to coax what information you could out of McCoy.” 

“Do you wish that you Spock wasn’t your…bond mate?” 

Jim regarded her for a moment, weighing if it would be more cruel to tell her the truth or a nice lie. “No. I don’t think I’d ever wish that.” 

“I know that you didn’t set out to hurt me. You were caught up in all of this against your will. Well, at first. And I also know that you did what you could to protect me. Even help me.” 

“So we’re good?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. I’m really, really relieved you’re back, safe and sound, sir.” 

“As am I, lieutenant.” 

“So…did you really punch some guy out at the memorial service?” 

Jim snorted. “It wasn’t at the memorial service, for one thing. It was over dinner. And yes, I did. He had it coming. If you were there, you would have done the same thing.” 

“It was that bad, huh?” 

“It was probably worse than you think. Though I guess I’m lucky that they didn’t try to press charges against me. That’s the last thing I’d need.” 

“I guess Captain Kirk agrees with you, because he worked his magic.” 

“Really? What did he do?” 

“I don’t know for sure. All I know is that he’s quite pleased with himself, and he told me to make sure you found out that you’re off the hook.” 

“Oh.” Jim grinned. “That’s a relief.” 

“I’ll leave you to your meal.” She turned towards the door, paused, and looked over her shoulder. “Do you love him?” 

“Yes. Not sure if any other word actually makes sense to describe this.” 

She smiled, and this time, it actually reached her eyes. “It’s a good thing you answered that so fast.” 

Jim’s smile matched hers. “Have a good night, Lieutenant.” 

“You too, Captain.” 

Jim waited for the door to slide shut before murmuring, “I intend to.”


	18. Chapter 18

Jim was asleep once again. It was easy to figure out what happened after Jim was released from McCoy’s supervision. He had made it as far as taking a sonic shower, but the dinner he had ordered remained untouched on the table, and his new change of clothes was forgotten at the foot of the bed. His body was loose with sleep, his face slack and young, his mouth partially open. Just the night before, seeing Jim in a similar position state was enough to slam a fist of fear into his torso. Now he felt such a wave of tenderness that he was relieved there were no witnesses, because he couldn’t stop his careful mask from slipping. 

He should let Jim get the rest he so obviously needed, but he had no desire to leave the captain’s private quarters. He had spent so much time pointedly separating himself from Jim that now he did not wish to spend a single unnecessary second away from him. Knowing that Jim wouldn’t protest the decision, Spock stripped to his underclothes and climbed into the double bed. It was more comfortable than the med bed, and far more spacious. Spock didn’t need the extra room. He found that Jim sought the warmth of Spock’s body when he slept, and that wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience. 

For all the energy Jim possessed when he was awake, he was nearly deathly still as he slept. Spock did not know if that was his natural repose, or if he was still overly exhausted. He did not have a great deal experience watching Jim sleep. Occasionally, his cheek would twitch, or his finger would tremble. Other than that, he rested with slow, deep breaths, his outer shell stripped away until he looked like a man far too young to do anything as momentous as captain Starfleet’s flagship. And yet, he managed with a level of skill already rarely rivaled. 

Another wave of tenderness washed through him—this one followed by an even fiercer sense of respect. Kodos had wanted nothing more than to break that indomitable spirit with its courage and hope and stubborn optimism. He wanted to sap the will. Destroy that impossible grace. Why? Spock knew there was no logical explanation for that sort of cruelty—that sort of sadism. He could search for it and search for it, and he would never find a reason to hurt and crush and destroy with an almost childlike glee. It was to his great relief that he had been capable of helping Jim escape the worse of the torment, but even if he hadn’t been capable of such aid, he had no doubt that Jim would have found a way to survive. 

As he always would. 

“Hey,” Jim murmured thickly. “How long have I been asleep?” 

“I am not sure. I would estimate four point thirty-five hours.” 

“That feels like it’s a good estimate. Where were you? I thought you would have been waiting for me here.” 

“My apologies. But when a Starfleet official as high on the chain of command as you goes missing for more than an hour, the natural result is a considerable amount of paperwork. I had to read the report by Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura, write my own, and file them.” 

“That couldn’t have waited until the morning?” 

“Did you not tell Dr. McCoy we’d be leaving at six hundred hours?” 

“I did.” 

“I felt it would be best to write the incident report and file it before we left New Chicago. I wanted to ensure that my memory of events was accurate.” 

“You have an eidetic memory. Remember? We discussed it at great length.” 

“You are correct. I did not want this experience to follow you back to the ship.” 

Jim made a strange face, like he didn’t know whether to frown or smile. A similar thread of confusion twined through Spock’s mind. He did not understand how or why, but he had disturbed the Captain. 

“Jim? My apologies if I overstepped….” 

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. You didn’t overstep anything, Spock. And I appreciate the consideration.” 

“Do you wish to return to your rest?” 

“If you’re asking me if I’d like to go back to sleep, the answer is no. Very much no. We were in the middle of something, if I remember correctly.” 

“I see your memory hasn’t suffered from your recent experiences.” 

“No, it hasn’t. I mean, it’s not as good as yours. I don’t remember the words of every book I’ve ever read, but I have a good handle on the important things. And I had a plan.” 

“You are already strategizing?” 

“Trying to.” 

Jim caught Spock’s hand and brought the fingers up to his mouth. Spock couldn’t help the tremor of anticipation racing through him. His penis was already semi-erect from the sight of Jim’s nude body, waiting for him, but now just the promise of his lips brought him to full erection. He knew he should not encourage or partake in this sort of expenditure of energy, but Spock had spent too much time denying his own wishes, not to mention Jim’s desires. He was not about to rehearse the same mistake. Not when every single one of Jim’s wants and needs were coursing through Spock’s body like they had originated inside of him. Perhaps they had? Perhaps it would be illogical to continue to assume any boundaries existed between them. When information and thoughts were allowed to pass so freely, it was impossible to remain fully autonomous. 

Did Jim fully understand that? 

“I get the deal, Spock,” he said, without removing his lips from Spock’s fingers. “I know what this is all about. I spent a good amount of time living in your brain. If this scared me, you’d know it by now.” 

“You are correct,” Spock averred. 

“Besides, do you think one of us could bend the other to his will? Really?” 

Spock’s eyes crinkled at that. “No, I do not believe that is possible.” 

“Well, it’s _possible_ ,” Jim amended. “Let me show you.” 

Spock barely had the chance to nod before Jim sucked the tips of his fingers past his lips. Spock shivered, his mouth suddenly dry as Jim tongued the sensitive flesh. He was careful to avoid snagging his teeth on the tender skin, and at the moment, Spock appreciated that consideration, though he suspected after a certain amount of time had passed, he would not mind rougher treatment. 

Jim took Spock’s shoulder with his other hand and gently pressed him back to the mattress. This time, instead of inviting Spock to move over him, he stretched out above Spock’s leaner body, his eyes already dark with longing, his skin surprisingly warm. He always felt so cool to the touch to Spock, but now it seemed as though they were both flushed, each one warming the other. Spock’s free hand went to Jim’s hip, and he held him in place, pressing their groins together and thrilling at the way Jim’s penis responded each time Spock shifted to increase the pressure or friction. 

Spock curled his fingers slightly, hooking them over Jim’s mouth to pull him into a kiss. Though he was still adjusting to using his mouth, he didn’t find the experience unpleasant at all. Especially since Jim took so much pleasure in it. He obediently pressed his mouth to Spock’s, but he didn’t release Spock’s fingers first. They were trapped between their mouths, at the mercy of lips and tongues and teeth. Something beyond pleasure wrapped around Spock, binding his flesh and his spine and his blood ran hotter in his veins. 

Jim broke away first, gasping for breath with a high color in his cheeks. There was a sly glint in his eye, though. Spock did not have time to ascertain Jim’s intentions before he felt the other man’s hot mouth on his cheek. He either knew the meld points because Spock knew them, or he made a remarkably good guess. He kissed each of the sensitive nerves, his lips dry and his breath a soft brush of wind across Spock’s skin. 

_I know all of your most sensitive spots now._ Jim’s tone was teasing, but his words held a wealth of promise. 

_As I know yours._

_That sounded vaguely like a threat._

_Not at all. It is merely a reminder._

Spock couldn’t see Jim’s smile, but he felt its slow arrival. He closed his eyes, enjoying the way the small grin changed the shape and even the texture of Jim’s mouth. Before Veridian III, before he banned himself from noticing such things, he had kept a thorough mental inventory of each of Jim’s smile. Now he could add to each listing, including any new and relevant details. Jim returned to his task of finding each of the sensitive spots he mentioned, his lips lingering on each one. 

He was mostly still under Jim’s explorations, though he couldn’t keep his fingers from exploring every bit of Jim that he could reach. He wanted to understand the texture of Jim’s skin, learn each cleft and valley, and have the same perfect knowledge of the physical as he did the mental. Spock had never considered himself a truly sensual being. Bodies, even the Vulcan physique, were often a hindrance, sometimes even an obstacle. Vulcans had such control over their physical reactions because they considered the body as nothing more than extension of the mind. That was why the _Pon Farr_ was such a shameful, trying experience for them—their physicality asserted itself over their mentality, temporarily winning the constant battle waging within the ancient race. 

But Jim was a sensual creature. As much as Spock truly adored his mind, he knew the richest experience would involve both mind and body, spirit and flesh. To that end, he couldn’t ignore the way Jim twitched when Spock skimmed fingers over the curve of his hip, or the sudden intake of breath at gentle pressure on the back of his thigh. He couldn’t ignore the soft moan that resulted from slipping his fingers between Jim’s thighs in search of his slick penis. Each small response was its own reward as well a signpost, a direction, for further action. 

“Why are you still wearing this?” Jim murmured, pulling at Spock’s shirt. He sat up and yanked it over Spock’s head. “There. That’s better.” 

It was better. Much better to feel Jim’s chest against his. Much better to feel his heart thumping through the thin cage of ribs and membrane of skin. Jim pressed their mouths together again, and again, Spock was completely lost in the caress. Spock decided it was a reaction to the way Jim used his mouth. He was assertive, but not domineering. Firm, but flexible, allowing time for Spock’s more hesitant tongue and moaning in encouragement when he felt it sweep past his lips. Jim tasted familiar and exotic at the same time. Spock would never forget the unique combinations of flavors and texture, slick and hot and dry and sweet all at the same time. 

He was so caught up in those small details that he didn’t notice the gradual way Jim broke free of the kiss. Thinking that he only intended to catch his breath, Spock didn’t make a sound of protest. Not until Jim lifted the corner of his mouth and began to slide down Spock’s body. 

_Where are you going?_

_I told you, I know all your sensitive points. And knowledge is power._

Spock frowned slightly as Jim’s intentions became clear. He had wanted to lavish Jim with attention, demonstrating his penitence and his relief and his affection and everything else that seemed beyond the capacity of speech. He had not expected to be the one on the receiving end, but he didn’t protest. Jim made it more than clear, in action and thought, exactly what he wanted to do to Spock—exactly what he wanted from Spock. 

Jim was a _maestro_ with his mouth, using it in ways that Spock simply couldn’t anticipate. For as much as Spock wanted to map and learn all of Jim’s body, he seemed equally inclined to becoming a student of Spock’s. There wasn’t an inch of him safe from Jim’s investigation, and he felt the shocking pleasure of tongue and lips dancing over his throat, the ridge of his shoulder, the lines of his chest, his flat nipples. Vulcans weren’t ticklish, but their skin wasn’t exactly impervious, either. Each touch sent electric signals to his penis, and pre-come leaked from his slit onto Jim’s skin, the slick liquid painting his hip, then his stomach, then his chest as he moved lower and lower. He could already smell the vaguely bitter scent of his spendings and Jim’s sweat, the combination strangely intoxicating. Soon the entire room would be suffused with it—it’d be a wonder if it didn’t drive Spock mad. 

Spock had expected Jim to continue right on down to his toes, but Jim apparently had a very specific destination in mind. Jim’s sweet breath blew lightly over the top of his damp head, cooling the skin—though that did nothing to help with the fire burning through his veins. Spock had experienced fellatio before, and he knew exactly what to expect. Except, he didn’t have a clue what to expect. Even though Jim was broadcasting his plans, his desires, his hunger, and even though Spock understood what it felt like to have a hot mouth wrapped around his most receptive flesh, he still did not have any idea of what this could possibly feel like. 

Jim dragged his tongue from the tip of Spock’s penis to the base, taking his time to gather up the natural lubricant, letting it smear across his lips. Spock stared at the display, his mouth suddenly watering, the muscles in his groin and thighs pulling tight. He wanted to bury himself if Jim’s throat. He wanted to be enclosed, surrounded, by Jim’s body. He wanted to sink into Jim, until he filled every sense, touched every inch, became the center of Spock’s universe. He wanted to feel Jim’s muscles clench and relax, wanted to feel the orchestra of his blood thrumming through his fragile-yet-strong body. And then when he was physically surrounded, he wanted to touch Jim’s mind, and paint himself in the glorious colors that lived there. He knew that certain others in his past would claim he was fantasizing about nullification, even annihilation, of self. But how could joining with Jim be anything other than the completion he had been denying both of them? 

He did not get to experience the exquisite pressure of Jim’s mouth. Jim looked up, blue eyes surprising thoughtful, given his current position, and studied Spock’s face for a long beat. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Spock arched his brow, very slightly surprised that Jim could speak at all. “I do not understand the question.” 

“What you were thinking about. Do you want to fuck me…penetrate me?” 

Spock was fully aware of what the human colloquialism meant without Jim’s clarification. “I did not make any such request.” 

“You just spent the past five minutes thinking about how great it would be.” 

“That is not where my thoughts were focused.” 

Jim’s face reflected pure exasperation. “Spock…tell me you weren’t thinking about being inside of me.” 

“Yes, that is technically correct. However, I was thinking about your mouth.” 

“That might have been where you _started_.” 

“I do not want to do anything that would hurt you,” Spock said simply, believing that would be the end of it. He still remembered how violently Jim had responded to the thought of being penetrated, and that coupled with his recent trauma at Kodos’ hand, made Spock quite certain that what Jim was suggesting was an impossibility. 

“It’s not impossible,” Jim said softly. 

It was on the tip of Spock’s tongue to tell Jim not to suggest anything for _his_ sake, but Jim was an open book to him now. Spock gently probed into his mind, and realized that Jim wasn’t saying anything for Spock’s sake. He shared that desire for completion, for being overwhelmed, taken, even claimed. The thought made Jim feel vulnerable, but it, and he, was all the more attractive for that vulnerability. 

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes.” 

_I promise you I will not hurt you._

_I know you won’t. What do you want me to do?_

_Lie down beside me._

Jim studied him for a moment, his mind working through a series of memories and images and scenarios. Spock wanted to give Jim the privacy of his own thoughts, but he couldn’t when the thoughts were invading his own mind. He hated the very real memories that plagued Jim. He hated the fears. He hated that Jim’s deepest desires were in conflict with the rest of him. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for that small battle and whatever damage was inflicted as a result. 

Jim didn’t look away from Spock’s face as he slowly climbed up the length of the bed. He stopped with his lips mere millimeters from Spock’s mouth, hesitated, and then gently sealed their mouths together in a slow, sweet kiss. It was all the permission Spock needed. 

#

As soon as Jim settled beside Spock, instinct told him to bolt. Not because he didn’t want Spock—he did. Desperately. He wanted to be close to Spock in every way it was possible. He supposed he knew Spock better than any person, living or dead, ever had. But that knowledge was like a drug swimming through his veins. One dose wasn’t enough. In a way, he did want to consume Spock, to absorb him until he finally understood, and then glory in that understanding. In that way, their mutual desires in that moment were very much matched. 

But that didn’t mean the basic instinct to fight disappeared. Jim didn’t want the pain, the humiliation. He didn’t want to be reminded that he was _weak_ , especially given the fact that Spock was much stronger than him. Could easily subdue him. But one look at Spock’s unusually soft eyes, and Jim realized he could put those fears to rest. There was no part of Spock interested in hurting him. And Spock wasn’t seeking submission. 

Jim submitted anyway. 

He couldn’t simply force the tension and apprehension away. But he could ignore it, focusing instead on everything he wanted from Spock and why he wanted it. Spock, for his part, clearly didn’t want to rush anything. He pushed Jim onto his back and began using his fingers again. Jim kept his eyes trained on Spock’s face, watching the journey his dark eyes made over Jim’s body, fascinated by the emotions and questions that Spock didn’t even try to keep at bay. Despite the very human reactions he was having, Spock didn’t look anything less than Vulcan. Beautiful. 

As Spock continued the massage lower and lower, Jim felt it to his bones. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. He was forced to watch Spock through his lashes, his lids heavy with pleasure. After gently rubbing Jim’s thighs, Spock nudged his legs until they were bent and held open, exposing Jim completely. The apprehension returned, and though Spock must have felt it, he kept his head bent with complete concentration. His long fingers slid behind Jim’s balls and then between his cheeks, seeking his opening. 

Jim’s mouth tightened as Spock circled the clenched muscle. He didn’t do anything more than that, his finger moving in a careful caress while he left soft kisses along the line of Jim’s cock. His mouth was dry and warm, and each brush of contact sent a jolt up his spine. At first, he was too concerned about what Spock was doing with his finger to worry about his mouth, but it didn’t take long before he had his back arched off the bed, his entire body straining for more of Spock’s inviting mouth. 

_Show me what you want me to do._

It took Jim a few seconds to understand, and then an image rose up in his mind. He didn’t know quite where it came from, but he knew it was right. Spock didn’t question it. He left a trail of light kisses along the seam of Jim’s thigh, and over his balls, and then moved to the sensitive skin behind that. As he got closer and closer to his destination, Jim realized he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything except wait for Spock’s light touch against his flesh, his heart pounding a mile a minute while everything else seemed to stop completely. 

Then he felt it. The tip of Spock’s tongue circling his opening. It was much warmer, much softer than Spock’s fingers. And it felt _good_. Much better than anything Jim had expected. Much better than he could have even imagined. Every nerve-ending seemed to burn in response, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving, gently rocking forward, encouraging more—begging for more. He still couldn’t make a sound, but that was because his throat was so tight that he didn’t even want to try. His heart raced faster, his flesh thrumming against Spock’s mouth. 

Spock was as careful and deliberate as always. Combining his knowledge of human anatomy with the powerful responses from Jim, it was easy to stoke the fires beneath Jim’s skin. He alternated between rapid flicks of his tongue and more deliberate laps, occasionally pausing to blow cool air across the damp skin, giving Jim bare seconds to suck in much needed breath. 

Neither one of them made a sound until Spock slowly pressed his tongue past the muscle and into Jim’s ass. He had known it could feel good. He had even expected it to be enjoyable. But the sudden pleasure was so far beyond anything Jim had imagined that it forced a shout from his throat. He felt Spock’s satisfaction at the sound, which only fed into the growing, twisting, smoldering heat wrapping around him in tighter and tighter circles. He thrust his tongue in and out with gentle strokes, seducing and coaxing Jim into wanting more. So much more. 

Long fingers wrapped around his cock, and he should have known Spock would be coordinated enough to make him weak, to make his flesh watery and boneless, to make the world spin above his head with just a flicker of his tongue and a jerk of his wrist. He used his mouth and hand in tandem, thrusting and stroking until Jim believed he would explode. He tried to push away from Spock and tried to push for more, and everything was confused and hot and he ached. _Ached_ everywhere. 

_Spock. Please. I can’t take this. I can’t…I can’t…_

To his surprise, Spock lifted his head. Jim didn’t know if he should be relieved to be free of the growing torment, or disappointed that Spock had the temerity to listen to him. That soft look was gone, though. Now he studied Jim with more than a hint of possessiveness, and Jim thought he could just get trapped in those brown eyes. 

“Are you ready, t’hy’la?” 

Jim tried to nod. He thought he nodded. It might not have been a physical gesture, but Spock still understood his assent. He pushed himself to his knees and stroked his cock, spreading the fluid that had been leaking from his tip. Spock’s skin glistened in the room’s dim light, and Jim realized that the fluid wasn’t as thin as his own pre-come. It looked and probably felt more like a natural lubricant. 

_I’ll stop if there’s any discomfort._

Jim nodded at the promise, but he was beyond caring about that. He wanted to fill Spock inside of him again. He wanted to pull Spock close, and wrap around him, and hold him and make it clear—make it absolutely unquestionable—how much Jim wanted him. 

Spock gripped the base of his cock and guided his head to Jim’s opening. Jim swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat, and reached out to grip Spock’s hip. They paused like that for a moment, each of them studying the other, committing the moment, the feelings, the bare anticipation to memory. There would be a lot of firsts between them, Jim knew, but he doubted any of them would be quite like this. He tried to smile a little bit, but like everything else, his mouth didn’t want to cooperate. Or maybe it cooperated just fine, because Spock smiled in return. 

The head of Spock’s shaft pressed against him, and Jim knew that if he was going to call a stop to the situation, it had to be then. This was the last possible moment to change his mind. He pulled Spock forward until the crown pushed through the muscle. The sudden intrusion did burn, and the pressure almost prompted Jim’s fight or flight instinct again. But Spock’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, and for just a second, he looked like he was perilously close to complete abandon. Like those small seconds of contact were more than he had ever hoped for and more than he dare ask for. 

“More, Spock.” Words might have been unnecessary, but Jim wanted to hear the cracked, desperate sound of his own voice. A reminder to both of them of just how close he was to the edge himself. 

Spock obliged, gradually working his hips forward, claiming mere centimeters at a time. The burn increased, the pressure building until Jim felt it in his abdomen, and then in his chest. But there wasn’t _pain_. Not like he had known before. Not like he had expected. His breath was shaky as his self-control, and his hold on Spock tightened as he accepted more of his length. After an eternity, Spock was seated fully, filling Jim and letting Jim surround him. 

He lowered himself until his chest slid along Jim’s and their brows were touching. Jim finally took the deep breath he needed, swimming in the scent of Spock’s skin and sweat. Their mouths teased each other without committing to a full kiss. Spock did move his hips in a light rhythm, but he seemed less interested in creating friction between them than he was in simply enjoying the heat and pulse of Jim’s body. 

With their mouths still touching, Spock pressed his fingers to Jim’s face. They already shared an open and easy connection, but the meld tore down any remaining boundaries between them. As Jim had welcomed Spock’s body, he welcomed his mind, opening himself completely. Every defense, every shield, was gone. Jim had no use for them. He could sense Spock’s excitement and bliss, just at the prospect of being invited inside with no exceptions, no hint of protest.   
There was a tentative push, and then Spock was delving the depths of his mind. Pure delight radiated from Spock, filling Jim, and there wasn’t a single emotion or sensation that one experienced that the other didn’t share. 

#

Glorious. Magnificent. Luminous. He had called Jim _luminous_ before, and it fit, and it was _right_. Spock couldn’t be as precise as he wanted to be. Jim always side stepped definitions, crossing lines and ignoring boundaries until he was a bundle of conflicting information and dynamic energy. But at this one time, in this one instance, Spock knew the perfectly correct word. 

Spock had thought himself prepared for the experience, for the gift he had been unconsciously asking for, but he wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Jim wrapped around him, enveloped him with the same strength he had used once before to push Spock away. The fire and heat that had once led to a violent, bloody fight was now redirected, holding Spock closer. The colors he had seen before were more vibrant now. So intense that Spock couldn’t stand to examine any one for very long, and yet, they drew him forward again and again. Every time Jim clenched down around him, Spock felt himself being pulled deeper into his body and into his mind. Until there were no means of breaking free and no wish to do so, either. 

Spock moved as Jim did, but it was an automatic instinct, not something he really concentrated on. His body naturally sought out more of Jim’s heat, naturally wanted to feel that heat wrapping around him tighter and tighter, while their frames slid together, sweat mingling and slicking their skin everywhere they touched. Jim clawed at him, held him, fingers slipping and then grappling for purchase once again. Spock let Jim control the rhythm, finding the pace that was comfortable for him. 

Spock didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to leave the haven he had found. His tongue danced with the taste of Jim’s sweat, and the scent of their coupling tickled his nose. His sensitive ears didn’t just catch each moan and sigh, but also the sound of Jim’s heart pounding and blood rushing beneath his skin. He felt Jim _everywhere_ , even in the few spots they weren’t actually touching. Spock couldn’t stop himself from going deeper and deeper, basking in colors and heat and energy and love. So much love. Jim was full of it, his natural compassion, the sweet light creating all the vivid colors and spectrums that so entranced him. 

_More, Spock. Harder…just a little bit harder._

_You take what you want. What you need._

Spock had barely thought the words before Jim wrapped one strong arm around his back and rolled over, flipping him to the mattress and straddling his legs. The new angle stole both their breaths, and Spock didn’t know how it was possible, but he felt even more of Jim surrounding him. Jim began rocking his body with more force than Spock would have ever thought to use, slamming himself onto Spock’s penis again and again. Spock knew he would not be able to withstand the harder rhythm for long. Just being that close to Jim, his captain, his t’hy’la, put him on the brink. 

Golden light began to seep into Spock’s mind. He opened his mouth, unsure of what he wished to convey, but Jim took advantage of that immediately, sealing their lips together. Everything flashed white and hot, and for the briefest of moments, Spock thought they were being transported. He had the sense of shattering, of being put back together, piece by piece, bit by bit, until he was whole again but not quite the same as before. There was more to him now. Things that hadn’t belonged before but were now simply required. Bits and pieces of Jim that were now absolutely essential for Spock’s continued existence. 

Jim shouted in his mind, the soundless eruption of pleasure echoing through both of them. He filled Jim with his semen and felt an answering jerk of Jim’s penis just before warm fluid covered his stomach. Jim didn’t stop moving immediately—he kept rocking, gradually slowing until they were both soft and spent and lax. 

_My god, Spock._

_Yes, I know._

_I never even knew it could be like this. Is it going to be like this every time?_

_I do not know._

_If it is, I’ll have to give up my commission and retire. Because I won’t have time to take care of the Enterprise._

Alarm shot through Spock, until he felt Jim’s chuckle. _That was meant to be a compliment, Spock. Not taken seriously._

_Ahh. In that case, I thank you. You feel tired._

_Of course I do. Don’t you feel tired?_

_I am mildly fatigued._

_Oh, just mildly?_

_Vulcans are known to have more stamina than humans._

_Is that a challenge?_

_I did not intend it as one._

_It sounded like a challenge._ Jim settled more comfortably on top of Spock, resting his head on Spock’s shoulder. _I’ll have to defend my honor later, though. I’m completely spent._

_You should sleep then._

_Spock…thank you._

Spock turned and skimmed his lips over Jim’s brow. _I should be the one expressing gratitude._

_Well, I was saying it for saving my sanity and my life._

Spock knew that, but he also knew that Jim had done more than that for him. All of the fear and doubt he had harbored seemed so meaningless now. An illogical, short-sighted waste of time. He was sorry for the months they had lost, but relieved that he had not cost them more than that. Still, Spock intended to make up for lost time. 

_I will always be there for you, Jim. Your life is more precious to me than anything._

_You have my back and I’ll have yours. Sounds like the natural order of things to me._

_Indeed. Now sleep. I can feel your exhaustion._

_Are you going to be a real mother-hen now?_

_I do not what that means._

_Fuss over me, Spock._

_I do not fuss. I merely endeavor to ensure your comfort and health._

Another warm chuckle drifted between them, and Jim pressed a soft kiss to Spock’s shoulder before shutting his eyes and succumbing to his exhaustion. Spock was similarly tired, but he chose to remain awake, watching and listening. Studying. Feeling. Delighting in his Captain.


	19. Epilogue

Despite the hours of explanation and education Jim had received from Spock, the wedding wasn’t really anything like he expected. He had learned enough Vulcan to get through the ceremony without relying on rote memorization, but he still had the sense that he would be reciting a series of nearly meaningless words, participating in a ceremony that had no emotional or cultural significance to him, and baking to death under the hot sun. Because, of course, New Vulcan was every bit the desert planet that old Vulcan had been and Jim just wasn’t accustomed to that sort of heat. One’s wedding was always stressful, and Jim had enough worries and insecurities that he couldn’t even look forward to the day. What if Sarek refused to accept him into the family? What if he unknowingly insulted every Vulcan present by uttering the wrong word at the wrong time? What if he passed out from heat exhaustion? 

What if he embarrassed Spock? He wasn’t too worried about humiliating himself, but the last thing he wanted to do was make Spock regret this decision. This wasn’t just zipping over to the nearest court house to sign a marriage contract and say a few traditional words in front of a judge. That sort of mistake could be easily forgotten in a year, when both parties agreed not to renew the contract. Vulcans might have a ceremony equivalent to that, but this wasn’t it. This was the _tel-tor_ , and it was permanent. As long as the Vulcan race fought for their survival and passed their culture down to new generations, the record of their _tel_ would exist. Forever. Unbroken. Spock had stressed that part specifically, as though he needed to be certain that Jim would understand. He did. Quite well. 

Lieutenant Uhura stood slightly behind and to the left of Spock, in traditional Vulcan dress, her hair rather elaborately piled on the top of her head. Jim didn’t know exactly how that particular conversation went. Had Spock merely asked his former lover to stand for him at his ceremony? Had Uhura offered? Was she watching the whole situation with a bitter eye, unable to stop from inserting herself in Jim’s place? He honestly didn’t believe that was likely, but anxiety had the tendency to snowball. Once Jim started worrying about things outside of his control, he started worrying about _everything_ outside of his control. 

Bones stood to his left, his face set in a firm, unreadable mask. There hadn’t really been a conversation between the two of them. As soon as they decided they would hold the ceremony, it was just understood that Bones would be the Vulcan equivalent of his best man. He wore his dress uniform and stood with his hands behind his back. As soon as he saw Jim staring at him, his brow shot up, and Jim saw a hint of amusement dancing in his blue eyes. He could almost hear the slow drawl. _Nervous, Jim?_

Behind them were a handful of crewmembers and friends. When word got around that the Captain of the Enterprise was marrying his first officer, Uhura had been positively flooded with invitation requests from all over the quadrant. Some of the requesters Jim didn’t even recognize. She had finally been forced to assign two ensigns the duty of intercepting and politely, but firmly, declining each request. Members of the House of Sarek were also present. Jim hadn’t intended to invite anybody, but finally yielded and contacted Admiral Pike. If he had his way, nobody would be there except him, Spock, and T’Pau. Mainly because he didn’t want so many witnesses to his blundering. 

_Jim, it’s time to stand._

Jim didn’t understand why they started on their knees, stood for T’Pau’s procession, and then returned to kneeling. Wouldn’t it make more sense to remain standing? Did their older counterparts go through this process, and if so, how had their knees withstood the abuse? 

_Your mind is very busy, taluhk._

_I’m nervous._

_You needn’t be. You’ve learned the entire ceremony._

_You’re not nervous? Is this another human emotion you’re incapable of?_

_As I said, there’s no need to be._

_Easy for you to say._

Spock had been remarkably sanguine about the entire situation from the beginning. And not just on the surface—he didn’t simply present a calm face to the world while being secretly consumed with dread. When Jim told him the news, he had merely nodded and asked if Jim would like him to arrange the details. Jim had seen him react with more surprise and interest to what was being offered for dinner in the mess. Apparently, _we need to be married, Spock_ was no greater a revelation than _I prefer ice cream made from Omicronian milk_. Jim didn’t know where that tranquility came from. Maybe he had the serenity to accept what couldn’t be changed, or maybe Spock really _wanted_ to get married. Stranger things had happened, Jim was sure. 

T’Pau was a proud, stern looking woman. She had probably been quite beautiful when she was younger, but that beauty had evolved, and now she had a very striking visage. Jim felt something inside of him shrivel a little as she trained her dark eyes on his face. He smiled at her without thinking, and her brow darkened in response. _Oh, shit. I just insulted her. She’s going to call this whole thing off and refuse to perform the ceremony because I just insulted her. Then what are we going to do? Shit, shit shit._

_Peace, Jim. You have not insulted her._

_Are you sure?_

_Quite certain._

Jim took a deep, soothing breath and tried to focus. Spock had told him that the ceremony would last no more than one terran hour, and that meant they would have a full twenty-two hours to themselves. As long as he didn’t blow it. And he _wouldn’t_ blow it, because Spock wouldn’t let him. 

The ceremonial gong sounded, and something like peace flooded him as his chest vibrated from the power of the instrument. That must have been from Spock. Perhaps Vulcan children were trained from birth to respond to positively to the sound. Jim appreciated it. He felt his wayward thoughts being drawn inward, and instead of focusing on the way they spiraled out of his control, he concentrated on the way the sand felt beneath his feet. 

It was time to kneel again. Jim wasn’t sure if he remembered that fact for himself, or if he was merely responding to Spock’s prompting. 

“Who stands for James T. Kirk?” 

Bones stepped forward to stand between his Jim and Spock. “I stand for him.” 

“And who stands for Spock sa-fu t’Sarek?” 

Uhura stood at Bones’s side. “I stand for him.” 

The entire exchange was conducted in Vulcan, and even to Jim’s ignorant ears, it sounded flawless. His heart swelled with more than a little bit of captainly pride. Of course, Uhura would know Vulcan perfectly, but he thought he saw a tiny hint of surprise on the matriarch’s face as she listened to their responses. In an earlier, more primitive time, the exchange could have ended with some sort of battle. Fortunately, they were living in a civilized times, and despite his nerves, Jim actually did want to be married. He didn’t need his second to fight for his honor. 

T’Pau dismissed them with a sharp wave of her hand, and they fell back to their assigned positions. Jim took a deep breath and braced himself for what came next. The longest part of the ceremony would be the explanation of the ceremony itself—the vows they were taking, the responsibilities they were accepting, and what all of that actually meant. Spock had assured him it was all very poetic, but the universal translator couldn’t possibly translate poetry into Standard. Uhura had made an off-hand comment once about how the translator never fully captured the meaning of Vulcan words. It could convey the gist, but language was a tricky thing. Especially a language as complicated and nuanced as Vulcan. 

Jim didn’t need an explanation, anyway. As soon as he made his decision, that was it. Despite his justifiable nerves, and his fears that he would botch everything, he never actually doubted that he wanted to do this. He cracked his eye open, sneaking a glance at the properly reverential Vulcan. Spock’s head was bowed, his eyes closed, his fingers steepled at his chest. His long lashes were dark against his pale skin, and he just had his hair cut. Jim could tell because he had become quite an expert in the way Spock’s hair hung around his ears and over his brow. His back was straight, his shoulders even, and the sun reflected off his dark hair, creating a slight halo effect. Just looking at Spock made his body tighten. Six months. In the grand scheme of things, that was barely any time at all. Not even a cosmic twinkle of an eye. But six months was a decent percentage of Jim’s life, and each passing day had felt like two. So really, it felt more like a year since he had dared to allow even the most casual contact. Touching had been strictly off-limits. 

Jim wished they could have selected a shorter ceremony. 

T’Pau’s voice lifted and fell, surprisingly melodic and even soothing. Jim didn’t focus on the words. He just let the sound flow over him, both sweet and sharp. He tentatively stretched his mind, reaching for Spock’s, and was rewarded with a warm welcome. They might have been under strict orders to halt their physical relationship, but even Starfleet command couldn’t interrupt the deep pleasure that came from the simple touching of minds. That had gotten Jim through more than one long night, but it certainly wouldn’t be enough for an entire lifetime. 

For a moment, Jim shut out everything that wasn’t Spock and let himself be absorbed in the welcoming depths of his mind. T’Pau’s words reached him through that filter, and suddenly, they made a lot more sense. Listening with Spock’s ears, he heard the ancient Vulcan words as the poetry they must have been. T’Pau spoke of longing, of dedication, of loyalty, of service, of pleasure, of trust. Of faith. It was strange to Jim that such a logical people would place so much emphasis on _faith_ , but it was a word he heard over and over. Faith in each other, in their bond, in the depth of their dedication. Interestingly enough, she never mentioned the word _love_. Maybe she was describing love without referencing it. In Jim’s experience, love certainly had a great deal to do with dedication and trust and pleasure. Especially pleasure. 

Jim wanted to drag Spock to the nearest quiet room and show him just how much he loved him. 

The gong sounded without warning, and then they were on their feet again. T’Pau approached, moving stiffly beneath her heavy robes. It would have been faster, and probably kinder, for the two of them to approach her. She stopped in front of him first, and Jim bent at the waist, partially out of respect, and partially so she could reach his face. Her fingers were warm and smooth, her skin hanging in lose wrinkles. She pressed the fingertips to his face with surprising force, and he felt her mind pressing to his. Immediately he wanted to push back and resist the intrusion, but Spock’s calming presence allowed him to relax. The contact lasted for only seconds before she stepped away from him and focused on Spock. 

Then they were kneeling again. But now Jim had to actually pay attention, because it was Spock’s turn to speak. 

They had rehearsed this part of the ceremony many, many times—all at Jim’s behest. As with all the other elements they were expected to know, Spock took it in stride, patiently rehearsing the vows with Jim, even though Jim never made a single mistake and probably didn’t need to waste the time with daily rehearsals. 

The vows themselves were easy to say. He had already made each one of those promises. When it came down to it, the ceremony itself was merely a technicality. Something that Jim had agreed to for Starfleet’s benefit. Spock already possessed everything of Jim’s. He had already been given any and everything of value, and Jim had no intention of taking any of it back. But Starfleet regulations trumped personal considerations. 

_Starfleet Regulation 7837.1 section C, subsection-B: All bond mates (as defined by section 7723 subsection A) must be legally recognized by the governing authority of the bond mates’ home world._

Otherwise, they were in violation of Starfleet’s rather strict fraternization policy and the officers’ Code of Conduct. Depending on just how far Admiral Komak wanted to push it, the punishment could involve stripping Jim of his ship. Once Spock had realized that, he had declared that it would be illogical to pursue their relationship, as it was simply not worth the loss of Jim’s command. Jim had countered by quoting regulation 7837.1, and Spock hadn’t reacted with a single word of protest at any point. 

“James Kirk, thee are my _sa-telsu_. The _Kah-ka_ has joined us. We are touching and always touched; never to be parted. From the time of the beginning, this is our way: the Vulcan heart, the Vulcan soul, the _kal’i’far_.” 

Jim repeated the words, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like he was completely out of place, anxious, and impatient. The universal translator told him that _sa-telsu_ meant husband. Of course, it did. What else could it mean? Jim didn’t know if being married would change anything between them. He didn’t think it would, but what if Spock had a different perspective on what a marriage was? 

As soon as he finished speaking, T’Pau raised her hands and the gong sounded. Before the reverberations stilled, the tall Vulcan hit the gong again, and again, and again. After the third one, T’Pau bowed deep and said in a surprisingly low voice, “ _Kal’i’far_.” 

_Is this it?_

_Yes._

_So we can leave?_

_Yes._

That was all Jim needed to know. He wrapped his fingers around Spock’s—a move he would never try on the ship but made perfect sense at that moment—and tugged him away from the altar. Nyota began clapping first, and Jim was certain the standard Vulcan ceremony did not include a round of applause from the seated audience. But once it started, it swept through the small gathering, everybody rising to their feet to salute the new couple. 

Jim beamed at them with genuine happiness. It started in his chest and spread through him, searching for an outlet. He felt like he was positively glowing with it, and as he glanced over at Spock, he thought even the Vulcan looked happy. He wasn’t doing anything as gauche as smiling, but his dark eyes were bright. He looked over at Jim and arched his brow in a silent question. 

Jim answered with a very enthusiastic _hell yes_. 

#

 

Twenty-two hours and thirty-seven minutes. Spock could probably provide the exact number of seconds if Jim asked, but both his mouth and his mind were too busy to form the question. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jim had Spock pressed against it, his lips pressed to Spock’s, his body straining to feel the Vulcan’s smooth, heated skin. Twenty-two hours and thirty-seven minutes would probably be enough time to take the edge off, but it absolutely wasn’t enough time to make up for the previous six months. 

_Are you not hungry?_

_No._

_Jim, you haven’t had any nourishment in the past twenty-four hours. You must need food._

_Trust me, Spock. Food is just about the last thing on my mind right now._

If they hadn’t both been wearing their dress uniforms, Jim probably would have ripped at the clothes until they were hanging off their frames in shreds. As it was, he could barely handle the zipper on Spock’s pants. His fingers were slick with sweat, and each time he tried to grab the tab, he’d slip. Or his knuckles would brush against Spock’s erection and he’d forget that he was actually trying to accomplish something. Or Spock would catch Jim’s bottom lip between his teeth with just the right amount of pressure—and Jim had never been so grateful for Spock’s perfect memory. Despite the amount of time that had passed since they were last able to enjoy physical intimacy, Spock still knew exactly what to do. But all of that meant Jim was making absolutely no progress on the task at hand. 

_Do you require assistance?_

Jim growled against Spock’s mouth, then tore away from his lips to sample the rest of his skin. He tasted Spock’s jaw and cheek and neck and throat, always hungry for more. Spock tasted of the sun. His skin was hot and dry from the wind that had been fanning over them during the ceremony. The heat that had crawled under Jim’s skin and made him so uncomfortable didn’t even prompt Spock to sweat. There was also something spicy on his skin. Some vague hint of incense and pepper. 

He finally bested the zipper and triumphantly pulled it open. Spock’s erection immediately fell against his palm, and he fisted his shaft, sliding his hand from the base to the tip. Spock’s flesh throbbed, the pulse far more rapid than Jim’s. He thought he would probably die if Spock didn’t return the favor. His balls were tight and his pants were absolutely cutting his circulation. He should have insisted that they all wear robes. Why hadn’t he insisted on that? Why hadn’t Spock insisted on that? At that moment, Jim thought he would happily repeat the ceremony a second time if it meant that afterwards they would both be in roomy, airy, comfortable, zipperless robes. 

_God, Spock, I can’t believe how much I need you._

Spock responded by grabbing the back of his head and forcing their mouths together again. Jim moaned as Spock’s lips parted and their tongues slid together. Jim was quite certain that he had unwittingly caught more people kissing in the past six months than any other time in his life. Every time he rounded a corner on the Enterprise, somebody was sucking face. To make it worse, there had been officers making eyes at each other on the Bridge, and Bones was over the moon for Nyota, and it sometimes felt like the Enterprise was nothing more than some loveshack floating through space. Except, the captain of the loveshack didn’t actually get any of that love because of ridiculous, stupid, annoying rules that kept him from grabbing Spock in the privacy of his own quarters and claiming every inch of his body. Jim had been tempted to declare _all_ relationships between crew off-limits, so that all four hundred and thirty personnel could share his personal hell. 

A surprising show of mercy from Spock was the only reason that particular rule hadn’t gone into affect thirty seconds after it occurred to Jim. 

While Jim’s fingers were slick and nervous, Spock’s were dry and sure. He managed to help Jim out of his pants with a minimum amount of fuss, and Jim’s love for the Vulcan immediately increased exponentially. 

_I’m not going to make it to the bed._

_Jim…_

_I don’t even know where the bed is._

Spock conveyed to him exactly where the bed was, but Jim barely registered it. The room that Ambassador Spock had arranged for them was opulent, with beautiful tapestries and thick, rich fabric hanging from the windows to block the worse of the sun. It was almost as dark and cool as a cave. According to the image Spock sent him, the bed was huge. Easy four or five times larger than what he was accustomed to. He could definitely test his abilities and endurance on that piece of furniture, but that would require walking. Walking would require releasing Spock. Taking his mouth from Spock’s. Even stepping away from him for thirty seconds would be unbearable. He’d have to take advantage of the bed later. 

Jim toed off his shoes and kicked his pants down his legs and to the floor. Spock tried to mimic him, but Jim had other plans. He needed to get the taste of Spock on his tongue again. He needed to be surrounded by the smell of his skin and the sound of his moans. Spock was capable of making the most delicious sounds. Sounds that Jim hadn’t heard in far too long. Sounds that he might not get a chance to hear again in the near future. The reality of being a starship captain was that even when he was off-duty, he wasn’t off-duty. The Enterprise, her entire crew, and Starfleet all came before his needs. 

Jim sank to his knees, his mouth never leaving Spock’s body. He kissed him through the thin material of his shirt until he reached the ridge of Spock’s hips. They both sighed as mouth touched flesh, and Jim was delighted to discover the texture of Spock’s skin was exactly as he remembered it. He left a series of hot, wet kisses along Spock’s hip, then down his thigh, always moving closer to Spock’s shaft. 

He caught the erect flesh between his lips, attacking it with all the hunger he had been trying to ignore for too long. Spock responded by cupping Jim’s head with both hands, holding his skull between surprisingly gentle fingers. He felt the energy flowing from Spock’s fingers directly into his skin, warming him, communicating with him. He felt his muscles relaxing, tension draining from him as Spock prolonged the contact. Jim responded by swallowing more and more of Spock’s length, moving his mouth down the firm shaft until he reached its base. 

During their enforced separation, Jim had found it more and more difficult to sleep. Since he couldn’t be caught in Spock’s quarters—even for a friendly game of strip-chess—he had taken to reading up on Vulcans. Specifically, Vulcan physiology. He now had a much better handle on just how Vulcans worked and what got them off. It wasn’t a complete knowledge. Vulcans weren’t big on sharing their kinks, apparently, but it was more knowledge than he had possessed before. Some details were pretty obvious. He didn’t need the computer to tell him that Spock had sensitive fingers. But he was very thankful for other pointers.

For example, he never would have known without being told that Vulcans had a gland not unlike the prostate tucked up behind their scrotum. Unlike the prostate, however, it required external stimulation. With his mouth still sealed tightly around Spock’s cock, he cupped his sac and sought out the sensitive gland with one long finger. Spock must have been aware of Jim’s intent, but his body still jerked like he had been touched with a live wire. Hot come shot splashed against the back of Jim’s tongue, and Spock’s grip on his head tightened, his long fingers flexing involuntarily. 

Jim smiled to himself and applied more pressure, instantly rewarded with another taste of Spock’s come. It was a little bit thicker than a human’s. A little bit saltier. Jim hadn’t even realized how much he missed it until he got his first taste, and he wondered if it would be possible to suck Spock dry this way. 

_Jim, please. What are you doing to me?_

_I just wanted to get a taste._

_Is that all you wanted from me?_

_Far from it._

Resolving to exploit that particular trick later, Jim moved away from the sensitive area, sliding his fingers back until he found Spock’s entrance. It had been a long time for both of them, and he knew Spock would be tight. He wasn’t disappointed. The muscles immediately squeezed around his finger. The heat was amazing. Jim began moving again, pumping the cock in and out of his mouth to distract Spock from whatever pain he might be feeling. Spock quickly caught his breath, and with a little encouragement from Jim, used the grip on his head to control the speed and rhythm of Jim’s mouth. 

Jim relaxed into Spock’s guidance, moving at the tempo and rhythm he set while slowly inserting a second finger. He twisted his wrist, working both fingers in up to the bottom knuckle, and wondered if he should take the proper time to find lubricant. He had brought some with him when he transported from the Enterprise, and he wouldn’t be surprised if their logical minded and efficient hosts had provided some in the bedroom. He needed Spock—that much couldn’t be denied. But he also needed Spock to enjoy their coupling as much as Jim planned to. And that meant without any unnecessary pain. 

_Do not stop, sa-telsu. Please. You are not causing me any harm._

_Well, yeah, not right now. But what about later?_

_I will let you know if my status changes._

Jim didn’t doubt that. He closed his eyes, savoring the weight against his tongue, and the tightness around his fingers, the smell of Spock’s skin, even the pressure on his skull. Despite all of his fantasies—including the ones he planned to act on that night—Jim had to admit that he could be content with just this moment. The simple satisfaction from being with alone with Spock, pleasing him, enjoying him. Even if the ache in his groin was driving him out of his mind. 

A vivid image suddenly filled his mind, so powerful that it completely overwhelmed his senses and became his new reality. Instead of resting on his knees, he was standing. And instead of swallowing Spock’s prick, he had his own balls deep in the Vulcan’s ass. There was no question of where the imagery came from. Spock had sent it to him. It was a clever ploy, Jim had to admit that much. Especially since a picture was worth a thousand words and Jim was pushed so far beyond his limits he couldn’t even remember where they were. 

Jim didn’t ask if Spock was ready for more—that would have been more than a little redundant. With a final sweep of his tongue, he pulled his fingers free of Spock’s clenching body and pushed himself to his feet. It would have been easier if he spun Spock to face the wall, but Jim didn’t want to do that. It was his turn to send an image, and Spock’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded in response. 

Jim gripped Spock by his hips and lifted him off the floor. Spock brought his legs up and hooked them around Jim’s body, using the wall to brace himself as he clung to Jim’s frame. Jim moved his hands lower, cupping Spock’s ass to spread the cheeks apart. His cock slid between the flesh, and the heat against his skin was already so scorching, so amazing, that he thought he would probably come as soon as he penetrated Spock.

He wasn’t sure who made the final, necessary motion. If he thrust up into Spock, or if Spock sank back onto him. Either way, the end result was the same. As the tight heat surrounded him, he felt paralyzed. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything except try to register the shock of pleasure as Spock’s walls clenched around him. Despite his research and the many, many hours he spent inside Spock’s head, he wasn’t quite an expert on Vulcan sex drives. Did they need to have sex? Did they crave the physical contact the way humans did? Judging from the wave of emotions he was picking up fro Spock, Vulcans certainly _enjoyed_ physical contact. But did Spock really understand just how much Jim needed this? Perhaps not, because Jim could barely understand just how much he needed Spock. 

Spock’s body was hard and surprisingly heavy, despite his appearance. Jim didn’t mind that. He liked the way Spock bored down on his cock. Liked the pressure against his body. He liked the solid reality of Spock being there, around him, holding him, accepting each thrust. Jim felt fingers on his face, and he tilted his head back slightly, making it easier for Spock to have what he needed. 

The second Spock touched his mind, Jim was enveloped by pure color. Jim had once commented on it, and Spock had told him that _he_ was responsible for that dazzling array of colors and textures that they shared between them. Jim couldn’t quite believe that. If that were the case, how come he was only aware of it when Spock melded with him? The color was as thick and warm as the New Vulcan sun. Jim tried to resist. He wanted desperately to resist. But he couldn’t. There was just too much contact, too much heat, where there hadn’t been before. His muscles clenched rapidly, and that was his only warning before everything exploded, his cock jerking hard inside of Spock. 

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I can’t believe…fuck…” 

“You do not sound pleased,” Spock observed. 

“That’s because I’m not.” 

Spock shifted his hips a little. “It felt as though you found the experience enjoyable.” 

“That’s the problem. I found it _too_ enjoyable. I mean, that couldn’t have been more than five minutes. Tops.” 

Spock frowned. “Fascinating.” 

“What?” 

Spock unwound his legs and slid down to the floor. Even after he had his feet under him, Jim didn’t let him go. “Your perception of time is vastly different from my own.” 

“Vastly? Exactly what does that mean?” 

“More than five minutes has elapsed.” 

“What?” 

“Considerably more than five minutes has elapsed.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Captain…” 

Jim arched his brow. “Spock.” 

“Excuse me, _sa-telsu_ , but I assure you that my internal sense of time is quite accurate.” He pulled up his pants, moving far too gracefully given the situation. Especially since Jim felt like his limbs weren’t even attached to his body. 

“I’ve never known it to be inaccurate,” Jim admitted grudgingly. “I guess you made time stop for me.” 

“Come.” Spock took Jim’s hand. “Let us see if I can do it again.”


End file.
